


By Light, Unseen

by fragilevixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Badass Scully, Bloodlust, Canon Divergent, F/M, Humor, Jealousy, Mild Gore, Mulder in Peril, Post-Episode: s06e08 The Rain King, RST, Smut, Things are not what they seem, UST, UST to RST, Vampirism, agents in peril, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen
Summary: A series of re-opened cold case murders with one link…they’d been drained of every drop of blood and wore the same, haunting stare toward the sky with their lips aghast as if they were still screaming.“The world seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it.” – Bram Stoker, Dracula
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 48
Kudos: 46
Collections: X-Files Case File Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	1. Vermillion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SerahSanguine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahSanguine/gifts).



> ex·san·gui·na·tion /ekˌsaNGɡwəˈnāSHən/  
> noun  
> MEDICINE  
> 1\. the action of draining a person, animal, or organ of blood.  
> "regional anesthesia with exsanguination of the limb"  
> o severe loss of blood.  
> "no patient died from immediate exsanguination"
> 
> Description of blood spatter, bloodletting, and moderate depictions of violence. Proceed with caution. Also, I am taking some liberties with lore; bear with me if it isn’t perfect. (Timeline is simply so I could use the time change – I need early darkness)
> 
> Serah, I took a few “liberties” with your prompt to pull you in and twist it about. I hope, sincerely, that it is everything you wanted. It seemed like it would be the most interesting story, with a few twists along the way.

_Listen to them._

_Children of the night._

_What music they make._

-Bela Lugosi

Thursday, October 8, 1998, 11:30 PM

Parking Garage near Canal Street

Lower Manhattan

New York City, NY

The New York City night air had its own, distinct perfume. A collective of smog, the mist from a morning drizzle, motor oil, regret, and the lingering bouquet of sweat that had accumulated along the sidewalks. The alleys, though, combined every bit of that plus so much more as the hum of storm drains barely drowned out the clang of a brown bagger as it hit the cracks in the cement. The staggered, clumsy clop of stilettos into divots and puddles seamlessly melted together with the murmur of an incoherent laugh or two. She was overdressed and yet, hadn’t managed to get the lipstick to remain on her mouth as she wiped it clear across her cheek.

Another bad night, gone so much worse than any other.

“Come on, honey, you could learn the ropes out here real fast and you’re cute,” the fifth sex worker had accosted her to join the heavily saturated section of street that lay between the edge of Hudson Square and Soho, a lingering grin framed just above ample cleavage and a skirt that left nothing to the imagination. “I don’t bite…that costs extra.”

“No, nope, I’m good,” Her fingers were wound around tendrils of curls as she sidestepped her, hiccupping the copious amount of liquor she’d already consumed as she opted for the shortcut down the alley. “Jesus…Christ.”

She looked back only once as an assurance that the woman hadn’t followed her. The one time she hadn’t been prepared enough to bring the pepper spray. Not like she’d be able to navigate using it on anyone but herself, though. She’d manage to get it all in her face with the kind of motor skills she was exhibiting, that was for certain. Another slow exhale left her lips as she steered through the narrow thruway, balancing carefully on the edge of a massive drainage grate, sliding onto her toes as the holes nearly swallowed up her heels.

“No fall, not tonight,” The spittle collected along her tongue as she struggled with the words in equal measure with balance as her knees buckled. “Ugh.”

“She’s cute but she smells like tequila and bad decisions,” A melodic, deep, and lulling voice came from behind her, tugging at the last of her consciousness as she was nearly to her building’s fire escape. “Contact drunk.”

“I want to play with her,” the femininity was heavy and hypnotic, tapping at every alarm bell in her body as the hairs stood on end.

“Who the… _fuck_ …where the _fuck_?” She spun, slurring her words as she aimlessly aimed her clutch in every direction, threatening to hit anything with it. “I will…uh…I-unno…fuck you and fuck your mother.”

“I can smell her,” The intonation was almost a growl but it refocused the task as she dropped the clutch, abandoning her money and phone, to get anywhere but there. “The struggle…the fear.”

“It’s hot,” A groan followed by a deep, audible inhale, rattled her.

The sighing was mutual and it slipped through the shadows like a cipher meeting its mate, wafting up, under her nostrils just enough to pick up on the intense cologne and perfume mixture. It was the last notch of intoxication even as she jumped to reach the bottom rung of the ladder. She was so close to being home and then she could scream for help. Her knees buckled and the final shot of the evening begged to come up as nausea swirled, but she refused to give in or vomit. That endeavor could wait and her stomach was going to have to get on board.

The wet, rigid steel above her finally gave as the release snapped free, rolling the mechanism down in a stuttered, loud motion that nearly sent it careening into her torso.

“Shit!” One stiletto broke as she reeled, sending her backward into a stack of garbage, her feet in the air. “Goddammit!”

The not-so-subtle tapping across concrete and sludge had her scrambling as she struggled to get out of the massive pile. The sound came from every direction, darting from corner to corner, high and low, settling behind her as the only light began to flicker from above. Her heart was thudding in her throat and the vomit was reacquainting itself with her esophagus as she shook her head, desperate not to retch right there. She was alone despite the sound. The fear only climbed, surfacing like sweat as she grasped the edge of the dumpster tucked into the corner.

“Mya,” The velvety sound of her name sent the chills down her spine, sobering her in seconds as she straightened her legs and let out an agonizing breath. “Scream for me.”

The light above finally burst, sending shards of glass and incandescent material flying as the darkness enfolded her. The harrowing, undeniable sound of her shrieks was hardly noticeable above the blaring of a car horn nearby. The guttural cries softened into nothing and the wisps of unholy darkness began to dissipate like the breaking of clouds, leaving behind the empty vessel of Mya Cross against a grimy, brick wall. She dropped to her backside, a solitary smear of blood behind her in a lonely pattern down the bricks, thick and vermillion. Her head tilted back and her skin went pale like the moon, with her lips purple, mouth agape, and eyes staring toward the sky.

Even in the pitch dark, she looked as though she were still making her hapless pleas to the heavens.

_I always interpret_

_Coincidences as_

_Little clues to_

_Our Destiny_

-Ann Brashares

Monday, October 12, 1998, 6:35 AM

The Bullpen – FBI Building

Washington, DC

Mulder had made it a habit of coming in earlier and earlier every day. It wasn’t to work, though, but rather to get a modicum of quiet away from the noise and chatter of gossip that droned on in the wide-open workspace. Tight smiles and nods didn’t hide his discomfort over the social interaction. He knew he wasn’t good at it and so did everyone else. At first, Scully had been strolling in with ten minutes to spare, but as the days went by, she’d begun to adapt more to his schedule. They’d become the _creepy couple_ in the office and Mulder had contemplated hissing at anyone that looked at them sideways. It was one thing to call him _Spooky Mulder_ , but it was quite another to bestow a nickname on Scully simply because she felt sorry for him.

At least, it seemed like she felt sorry for him. It was how he was rationalizing her losing precious sleep every morning.

“I don’t hear any typing,” Scully didn’t lift her head from behind a cup of coffee and a thinly slathered bagel, her line of sight firmly on a section of the newspaper in front of her. “What are you about to get us both in trouble over this time?”

“You’re a little mean today,” Mulder dodged the question and continued to pilfer the document propped against the edge of his desk, scanning the photographs, printouts, and written information while groping for his ailing cup. “I don’t know that I appreciate it. Don’t try to blame it on a case of the Mondays, either, I’m not buying it.”

“Side-stepping my question to comment on my disposition is beneath you,” Scully slowly folded the newspaper and lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes at him while precious bites of her breakfast sat on a napkin square in front of her. “Out with it…I’m not begging.”

Mulder was trying not to crack a smile as he held the cup to his lips, concealing the gentle curve while he kept his eyes away from her penetrative stare. “I don’t think you’re going to like it, Scully.”

“When do I ever actually like what you’re hiding from me, Mulder?” Scully chewed another bite of the bagel and wiped her fingers, raising a brow as she slid back in her chair to stand. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you? I can’t even finish my bagel before you start in on your shit?”

“I don’t know, there’s something funny about you getting pushy while you’re still eating that anemic looking bagel,” Mulder was certainly on it as he turned his chair, evading the first reach from her slender fingers, coaxing a low growl from her. “There’s no need for violence today…patience is a virtue.”

“Yeah? Teasing is very often a sign of inner misery,” Scully busted out a Christopher Hitchens quote on him and jabbed her index at his ribs until the sound that came out invited a healthy grunt. “Give it up.”

“Are you making a pass at me, Scully?” Mulder tilted his head back while holding the file against his chest, beaming up at her as she hovered over him a little aggressively. “Not that I mind but I like clarity.”

“Knock it off and hand it over,” Scully finally curved a little smile and tugged on his tie until he relented, letting her take the hefty document from him. “See? That wasn’t difficult, was it?”

Mulder shook his head and studied her as the smile slowly disappeared from her face while she perused the file, knowing he’d delayed the inevitable as she chewed the inside of her cheek and furrowed her brows. “Withholding it from you kept you from making that disapproving, _not again_ face…you know that, right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Scully was only half lying as she turned the first page, finding the detailed photographs of the first sets of bodies, along with the detailed analysis of the cause of death findings from their respective autopsies. “…it’s more that I know where you’re going with this and I’m wondering where the plastic teeth and rubber tubing is going to present itself.”

“I refuse to concede on that subject and you know, I was drugged,” Mulder made the leap and the reference as Scully continued through the heavy documentation, watching as her index acted as a place keeper moving along the pages. “You haven’t thrown it at me…”

“There’s still time,” Scully leaned against his desk, crossing one leg over the other while tilting her head to one side, the intrigue finally slipping free. “Mulder…”

“Looks like two, separate cases, doesn’t it?” Mulder angled his chair back until the mechanism squeaked, raising both arms above his head to stretch.

“Seven missing person cases, no bodies, all of them with a singular link of prior bad acts like domestic violence, rape, child abuse,” Scully made a face and let a single page drop back as she glanced at him for a moment before continuing. “The other is eight murders…exsanguination via a gaping tear to the jugular and the collarbone. Don’t say it.”

“Vampirism,” Mulder did it anyway and watched her shoulders drop before her eyes closed, the audible sigh almost impressive as he straightened his spine to further the comment. “…come on, we know about Vlad the Impaler and his cruelty. The legends of dipping bread in the blood of his victims? When sick with porphyria, you can get rid of symptoms by ingesting blood. Is it really a stretch?”

“I need to start slipping a mild sedative in your coffee in the morning,” Scully shook her head and crossed her arms, continuing to grasp the documentation in her hand. “Why would this matter, anyway? This isn’t our case.”

“…About that?” Mulder fidgeted and heard the clicking of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her lips slightly parted, as the frustration began to mount. “Someone remembered me specifically from the New York bureau and they don’t want it to be a…sanctioned…investigation, if you catch my drift.”

_Hurricane._

He wanted her to go back out into a figurative hurricane. Mulder’s boyish charm had been working its way through Scully and it had affixed underneath her skin, making camp in the worst way. Scully bit down on the corner of her lip, hoping for resolve, but it did nothing. Her focus drifted, to the swell of his bottom lip, to the way his hands moved along his lap, to the unsatisfying hunger that was developing below her belly. Saying _no_ to Mulder was in her vocabulary but the word had stopped carrying weight for a very long time as she met his gaze.

Mulder had undone her again.

“What kind of excuse are we going to give management about why we are going to New York instead of working on vouchers with the rest of the drones?” Scully returned the file to him and moved back to the safety of her desk, consuming the last of her bagel and coffee as she stayed standing. “It better be good.”

“Oh, that was the easy part,” Mulder shrugged his shoulders and carefully concealed the file beneath a stack of papers as the first few agents began to stroll in. “The agent that this information came from already owed me a massive favor…and he’s a SAC now, so, he doesn’t mind stretching the truth from time to time.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Scully rolled her eyes, tossed her napkin into the trash, and caught a glimpse of Skinner and Kersh having a healthy discussion behind a closed door, the blinds open toward them. “Looks like your contact pulled through. Can’t say they look pleased.”

“It’s concerning me, they never are,” Mulder said, dryly, from behind a grin.

“Us,” Scully corrected him and sank into her chair, earning an inquisitive tilt of the head from her partner. “…if I’m going to ruin another pair of shoes for another case, it isn’t just you, it’s us.”

“Noted,” Mulder had a soft shade of pink along the apples of his cheeks at the implication as the door swung open and Skinner’s fingers snapped, wordlessly gesturing to the pair. “We’re being summoned.”

“He’s red,” Scully looked up as she shoved the newspaper into the wastebasket and cleared the documents back into her inbox while Mulder held the thick file between his fingers. “Hide that…or we’ll watch him go off like Mount Vesuvius.”

Mulder glanced at the file and nodded appreciatively at his partner as she lingered behind his chair, pushing the document into a drawer with a bunch of folders to slip it beneath. “Good thinking—that’s the last thing I’d need to explain away.”

“You forgot to mention what your favor contact’s position in New York is other than they’re the Special Agent in Charge,” Scully nudged Mulder as he adjusted his tie and shoved the chair back into place.

“Oh, didn’t I?” Mulder kept his voice just above a whisper as they approached the open door, making eye contact with both superiors in the process. “…Cold Cases.”

Scully kept her lips firmly closed at the prospect as they entered the office, capturing the less than pleased glances of Kersh and Skinner in unison. Skinner just didn’t want to be there while Kersh seemed more perturbed about having to make alterations or concessions for them. It was their new assignment that neither of them seemed to be adjusting to, despite the constant threat of suspension. The word had begun to hold no weight. They almost looked at it as if it were a personal challenge to see how many times they’d hear the ultimatum from one or both of them.

As much as Kersh and Skinner wanted to appear menacing, neither of them were.

“Have a seat, both of you,” Kersh gestured to the chairs, expression already teeming with ample lack of patience as both didn’t linger in an upright position for long. “I just got off the phone this morning with the New York offices—and it seems as though you two have made an impact on a naïve Special Agent in Charge up there.”

“Against our recommendation for better agents, with a shorter list of complaints and threats for reprimand, it seems as though SAC Metcalf is insistent on utilizing you for his op,” Skinner chimed in, nonchalantly laying out their indiscretions as though they needed to hear it.

“Metcalf has two cold cases that have, by all accounts, become hot again,” Kersh folded his hands across the desk and watched as Mulder’s mouth started to open. “Oh, no, you’re going to just listen…”

Mulder bit down on his lip, his wit and sarcasm getting the better of him as he let the words slip free. “This is feeling more like a Spanish Inquisition than an assignment. Are we to be drawn and quartered later?”

“Mulder,” Scully admonished him even as she bit back the urge to laugh.

“That’s enough,” Kersh elevated his voice and glared, the gruff tone coming out much harsher than intended. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re up to…but not having you in my sight while you work this assignment could assist my stress level greatly. You’ll report directly to SAC Metcalf and any bullshit either of you pull will trickle down to Skinner, got it?”

“Crystal clear, Sir,” Scully spoke up before Mulder could put his foot in his mouth again.

“Good,” Kersh shifted flight vouchers across the desk and pointed toward the door, remarking pointedly. “Your flight leaves at one, now get the hell out of my sight.”


	2. Animal Magnetism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scent of death, blood, and pure, unrestrained sexuality. A city with far too many people and the indiscriminate division that keeps bringing those that play, by night, out far more often than they’d like.
> 
> “A responsive influence exists between the heavenly bodies, the earth, and animated bodies.” -Franz Anton Mezmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pher·o·mone /ˈferəˌmōn/  
> noun  
> ZOOLOGY  
> plural noun: pheromones  
> 1\. a chemical substance produced and released into the environment by an animal, especially a mammal or an insect, affecting the behavior or physiology of others of its species.
> 
> Note: Description of blood spatter, bloodletting, and moderate depictions of violence. Proceed with caution. Also, I am taking some liberties with lore; bear with me if it isn’t perfect. (Timeline is simply so I could use the time change – I need early darkness)
> 
> Serah, I took a few “liberties” with your prompt to pull you in and twist it about. I hope, sincerely, that it is everything you wanted. It seemed like it would be the most interesting story, with a few twists along the way.
> 
> I'm not responsible for puns. Sincerely...not...at all.

_We have people who are healers_

_And those who possess_

_A certain animal magnetism._

-Julian May

3:15 PM

26 Federal Plaza - 23rd floor

New York, NY

“Care to wager any bets on how many times we’re going to get a call before dinner time from Skinner asking what’s going on?” Mulder invaded Scully’s bubble, breathing entirely too hard on the flesh below her earlobe as they waited at an unusual reception station.

Scully shuddered as the gooseflesh dotted down her back and arms before an impulse nearly knocked her knees out from under her while she cleared her throat. “I’m unwilling to lose money on that kind of gamble. I’m tempted to turn the cellular off and claim it went dead.”

“You’re bad,” Mulder’s voice inadvertently dropped an octave and awakened the girlishness in his partner as the skin beneath her makeup went hot while her teeth captured her lip.

It wasn’t enough that Scully fell asleep against him on the flight but awoke to the unmistakable sensation of Mulder’s budding erection beneath her wandering fingers under the concealment of a jacket. Luckily, he’d passed out after her and she could chalk it up to nothing more than a physical response to stimuli, but the stuttered grunt in her direction as she pulled her hand away didn’t do her any favors. She said nothing about it. She simply tilted her face toward the window, pretending to doze for the remainder of the flight. The embarrassment, though, stayed with her until they were waiting at bag check and she had to keep backing away from a wandering gaze.

Scully could have sworn that there wasn’t a doubt that Mulder smelled the arousal on her.

Part of her was already internally screaming at the prospect of a hotel for any number of days where he was within earshot of her.

“You good?” Mulder couldn’t help but notice the twitch as he eased his palm across the small of her back, coaxing a soft, genuine smile from her.

“Still feeling the flight, I think,” Scully nodded as her stomach opted to speak up, growling just a touch as they were still entirely too close together. “Hungry, too, apparently.”

“Maybe Jake will use that company card and take us to a late lunch?” Mulder joked and looked over at the wide-eyed receptionist as she put the receiver back down with a gentle nod.

“Special Agent in Charge Jacob Metcalf will be out in just a few minutes to see you,” Her voice was entirely too high but she had a pretty smile as she moved her eyes from Mulder to Scully. “ If you’d like to have a seat in the meantime?”

“Thanks, Kelly,” Mulder glanced at the nameplate and nodded in the direction of the loveseat style seating area as he made eye contact with Scully. “Cozy…”

“We’re not here to be comfortable,” Scully rolled her eyes as they seemed a bit synchronized as they sat, inadvertently rubbing arms on the way down. “…you’re here to convince me that there’s more than a whack job intent on bodily mutilation and I’m keeping you from getting yourself killed.”

“I could have been a real pain in your ass and put in for the trip to Rhode Island for a little trip to take a peek at what’s left of Mercy Brown,” Mulder had spent entirely too much time and effort researching vampire lore, something that had Scully amused and irritated in the same breath. “You’d find a way to blame it on a New England winter, though.”

“Science will dictate that decay does slow if the conditions grant colder weather,” Scully flexed the mental muscle and heard the muted groan from him as she crossed her legs. “It’s still far more likely than Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise showing up to drain you of your blood…not that any middle-aged woman would protest such an act.”

“Or some men,” Mulder wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“ _Spooky fucking Mulder_ ,” Jacob’s voice wasn’t nearly as deep as Mulder’s but it wasn’t high by any stretch as he interrupted their riveting discussion and captured their attention with a wide grin from the doorway. “How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Jake Metcalf, we won’t repeat your nickname,” Mulder shook his head and stood, meeting his old acquaintance in the middle, bridging the gap near a bend in the halls. “Sounds about right, Violent Crimes didn’t hold your interest long, that’s for sure.”

“Only the cretins make camp in Violent Crimes,” Jacob cringed before elevating a brow while straightening his tie at the sight of Scully at Mulder’s side. “When you said your partner, Agent Scully, I was imagining that the only people that could put up with you…had testosterone more abundantly than you, Mulder…”

“Maybe, that’s been his problem for far too long,” Scully offered her hand to shake his, the sass more than sufficient as she cocked her head to the side just slightly. “Dana Scully.”

_That’s my Scully._

Mulder couldn’t help but be a little proud of that wittiness. Scully knew exactly when to dig in her heels and take a jab at an opponent, even if it was just to assert a little dominance. Telling her that it inspired something in him, though, was an entirely different matter. It made him sweat and brought him back to awkward teenage years when girls looked at him as if he were the extra-terrestrial. Scully made Mulder inexplicably nervous and it drove him crazy.

“She’s feisty, that’s perfect,” Jacob waited until he’d shook her hand to comment while he led them back toward his expansive office that overlooked a wide section of Lower Manhattan. “I’m sure you’re both curious about the folder that I sent you?”

“Well, I’m curious but she’s more interested in dismantling theories to arrive at a series of truths that will, inevitably, make me look like an ass,” Mulder caught the crooked smirk from Scully as they passed through the door, his joke was laced with legitimacy despite the tone.

“Different from your normal brand of kinky shit, Mulder,” Jacob winked in Scully’s direction and found a little delight as it inspired an awkward fidget from her next to Mulder before turning his attention to him. “The fact is…we have a long string of murders and missing person cases dating back for over fifty years that match nearly everything you saw in that file. I’m sure it goes further back but most people didn’t give a shit about categorizing violent crimes prior to that.”

“Fifty?” Scully’s mouth went agape at the thought. “That doesn’t make any sense…that would imply multi-generational perps.”

“Or really old ones,” Mulder spun it and felt the stare in his periphery like a mixture of hot and cold against his skin. “Scully…I see you.”

Jacob chuckled from behind a cup of espresso and licked his lips as he placed it away from the stack of papers in front of him, the candor in his voice as he leaned back. “New York isn’t typical and the brand of weird we get up here is far from the standard…the rival might be Vegas, but, that’s kept hush-hush. We had a case two years ago of an underground club, run by a very rich gentleman…who used to pick pretty girls to, feed on.”

“Bloodletters?” Mulder was taken aback despite his yearning to believe in it, reeling from the nonchalance of the idea. “Really?”

“You seem surprised over the notion of a perfectly normal, able-bodied individual having a strange lure toward counter-culture,” Jacob wrinkled his nose and tilted his chin as his spine popped along each vertebra as he stretched his arms above his head. “It was messy, nonetheless…one of his parties went a bit far and one of those pretty girls ended up losing too much blood.”

“Accidental or did they rule it manslaughter?” Scully inquired as Mulder pulled the file from the case he’d brought in.

“Neither,” Jacob gathered a box from beside his desk, pulling three files from the front, maintaining his focus as he recollected the case. “That very well-to-do bastard had been taking so many drugs that he was incapable of being deemed fit…he walked on a technicality. Didn’t remember shit.”

“Makes you question what justice is, doesn’t it?” Mulder couldn’t help noticing Scully’s expression as he opened his mouth, connecting with her on a weird level as he looked over at her for a moment before continuing. “I am curious about these two cases, though…”

“The missing persons' cases are a doozy,” Jacob nodded, opening the first file with a series of names and dates. “Gender isn’t the issue. There are men and women among the names, however, their unifying situations are that they are people that committed crimes varying from domestic battery, assault, rape, and child abuse…not the run of the mill petty crimes. These were considered bad people.”

“No clues left behind? Nothing that would lead to an arrest?” Scully crossed her legs and tightened her fingers around the armrest of the chair as she felt Mulder’s captivated eyes on her.

“Every scene was the same, too, which has everyone baffled,” Jacob took one of the photos and passed it across the desk to her, illuminating what he was about to describe. “A six-inch pool of blood, no spatter, and the room was wrecked…body, as always, missing.”

“What about the other case?” Mulder glanced over at the photo between Scully’s fingers, at the sheer amount of destruction in the room, down to the broken glass and overturned chairs. “Similar situation?”

“Less so,” Jacob didn’t need photographs for this one as he exhaled slowly, recollecting Mya’s face when the crime scene unit brought them in. “Our most recent murder is from last week and she was found propped against the bricks of the backside of the building she lived in. Drained of blood, spatter-like smear on the wall behind her, and a massive chunk of flesh bitten off her body in two places…with the look of fear etched into her expression.”

“They’re all in weird places like that?” Mulder leaned against his elbow, picturing the scene in his head as Scully placed the photograph back on the desk. “Or different?”

“Varying degrees of filth,” Jacob exhaled slowly, placing a line of photographs side-by-side across the top of the desk. “These are just the most recent but the ongoing pattern is in areas where it’s dark, where no one will hear…or where no one is going to say anything over the sound of a scream.”

“Sounds like we need to take a trip to a modest hotel, check-in, and check out your most recent crime scene?” Mulder elevated his brows and glanced over at Scully, who seemed to be studying the photos with more scrutiny than he was expecting.

Jacob nodded as he picked up the receiver. “I’ll make a couple of calls and we’ll get this going.”

_Sometimes justice is better_

_Served by those who_

_Have experienced the pain_

-Mark W Boyer

6:00 PM

130 Leonard St

New York, NY

“We’re going home, now,” He ran his fingers through shaggy, blond locks and snapped his fingers angrily at the demure, weak shouldered woman behind him lagging at the center of the bridge rise. “Beth…I shouldn’t have to say it twice.”

“Derek, I need to fix my shoes, please,” Beth had a single, long braid angled across her shoulder, doing nothing to hide the yellowed bruising across her right eye as she knelt to tie her shoes. “I’ll only be a moment.”

The obstinate, childlike frustration collided internally with his rage as he bridged the gap and wrapped his digits around the length of her hair, pulling her to her feet as though she were nothing more than a rag doll. “You know you don’t just do as you please, Beth. You ask, wait, and move accordingly. If I told you _no_ , you’d walk home with untied shoes…correct?”

“Yes, Derek, I’m sorry,” Beth trembled under his touch, the fear and anxiety climbing as his free hand pushed against her windpipe until she couldn’t breathe. “Please, may I tie my shoes before we leave? I’m sorry I didn’t ask properly, I have no excuse to offer…Derek, I can’t breathe.”

“You shouldn’t be able to breathe since you seem to be experiencing such difficulty learning lessons a little faster, to my liking,” Derek growled and felt the distinctive, unpleasant shift of Beth’s hyoid bone in her throat until she gagged and coughed. “You may tie your shoes.”

Derek let go of Beth’s neck and hair, but her reluctance to move was marked by the shaking of her limbs as she sank to her knees. She could feel a tingle along her mouth where her air had been cut off completely and it hadn’t been the first time she saw stars float into her field of vision. It had been a long time since he’d done it in public. She darted her eyes around, hoping no one saw. The park was quiet, absent the gentle babbling of the water beneath the walkways and the skittering of leaves as the wind carried them along the rough surfaces.

It was peaceful, tranquil, and gave Derek entirely too much freedom to put hands on his wife.

“We have a deadline to keep and you are taking too long, girl,” Derek didn’t have terms of endearment for Beth aside from _girl_ and it wasn’t used affectionately as he swatted her on the forehead with her purse, the metal clasp scratching her temple.

“Yes, Derek,” Beth was holding in the urge to sob as she moved from the left to the right shoe, looping the laces around as quickly as she could.

Derek was so consumed with hovering over her, that he wouldn’t have noticed the piercing set of green eyes watching him from beside one of the nearby trees. The feminine, provocative eyes were framed by long, full lashes and deep red lips, highlighting the pale visage that they belonged to. She wasn’t even trying to hide as she stroked her chin and continued to study them, lowering her chin while a brow elevated judgingly. She was elegant yet calculated in her movements as she took careful, slow steps toward them, her perfectly tailored slacks barely showing the tips of her toes in the stiletto shoes she wore while her ample bosom rocked in the tightly fitted corset top that matched the pinstripes. She was captivating, magnetic even, as she came up behind Derek and cleared her throat.

“I couldn’t help but notice the timid little mouse you’ve trained,” Her voice was like velvet and honey as Derek spun around just in time to see her tongue dart across her bottom lip, seductively. “She’s so…well behaved and subservient.”

Derek nearly tumbled into the water as he took a step back, but opted to boast as he felt arousal swell at the mere sight of her pale cleavage in the soft light of the street lamps. “Well, she’s my wife and I have certain expectations of the fairer sex about public behavior, private behavior, et cetera…”

“Well, go on, then,” He hadn’t so much as asked for her name but he was drawn in by her looks, her scent, the pheromones that radiated off of her as she ran a couple of fingertips across her skin. “I’d like to know more…I always want to know more.”

“I’ll tell you more if you tell me your name,” Derek was openly flirting with her while his wife was still perched on the ground, her disgust and rejection written as he followed the woman’s careful backward steps. “I’m Derek…you don’t need to know her name, she’s nothing, and she knows she’s nothing.”

“Miranda,” Miranda’s eyes flickered in the light and she winked in Beth’s direction, alleviating some of the worries as her voice dropped an octave. “Oh, but, you see…I already know Beth’s name. It’s yours that I just don’t care about.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Derek spun as her seductive tone seemed directed more at his wife than him despite the conflicted sensation creeping in his jeans. “Nobody fucking move or I will…be putting my hands on someone.”

“Oh, Derek, haven’t you done enough of that already?” Miranda’s movements made no noise against the ground as she strategically placed herself between him and Beth, gesturing to her while keeping her stare affixed on Derek. “You are the kind of man that has to put his hands on a woman, reduce her to nothing more than a shrinking violet to compensate for your…shortcomings.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” Derek hissed and took a step forward but did not inspire a moment of fear in Miranda as she held her ground in front of him.

“Oh, believe me when I say this, you couldn’t satisfy me,” Miranda took a step forward and whispered in his ear, grinning as she made eye contact with a man approaching from the shadows. “You’re going to taste like unbridled rage, fear, and the unchecked double standards of generations in your ill-adjusted bloodline…I will have to drink so much wine after.”

“What the fu—”

Miranda’s eyes flashed red as her company sank his teeth into Derek’s neck while she covered his lips with her own, sucking the breath from his lungs. Beth stared at the scene as it unfolded, as her husband struggled between two strangers until his limbs went limp and the life left his eyes. Miranda took a staggering step backward as her counterpart let Derek drop to the pavement, dribbling a section of blood in the process. The exhale was soft, hedonistic, and raw as Miranda smiled at her well-dressed companion and gestured for him to remove the body while she wiped the blood from her mouth. They hadn’t finished Derek off, but it was a start.

He certainly wasn’t going to raise a hand to Beth again.

“Listen, darling,” Miranda licked her fingers clean and guided Beth to her feet, looking her in the eyes as the adrenaline coursed through her. “…not all monsters have fangs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Franz Anton Mezmer  
> Julian May  
> Mark W Boyer
> 
> Bear with me on this one...it’s going to lead somewhere interesting, I promise.


	3. Ensnared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vigilante and a ruthless assassin – as the bodies continue to pile up, how will Mulder and Scully be able to discover clues that will lead to finding not one, but two killers concealed in the streets of New York City?
> 
> “Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.” – Eckhart Tolle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be·tray·al /bəˈtrāəl,bēˈtrāəl/  
> noun  
> 1\. the action of betraying one's country, a group, or a person; treachery.  
> "the betrayal by the king by his daughter"
> 
> Continuing with the thematic of blood spatter, descriptions of blood spatter, bloodletting, etc. are contained in these chapters. 
> 
> It's not overly graphic.

_Your_

_Thoughts_

_Become_

_Things._

-Rhonda Byrne

6:30 PM

Baxter and Canal

New York, NY

The alley and the sidewalk around the back of Mya Cross’s building were still heavily roped off with yellow tape, the police presence all but gone, replaced by the remnants of the FBI sweep. Jacob led a small group through a secondary grid, canvassing for anything that had been missed while leaving Mulder and Scully to their own devices. It was probably better that way. The last thing they needed was a babysitter. It wouldn’t have done much good to follow them around like a helicopter parent, anyway. Mulder’s previous, casual, sibling-like relationship with Jacob would’ve given ample opportunity to put a stop to it, though, even if he had tried.

The blood hadn’t been cleaned up yet, but the multiple days of rain had done some of the job of eradicating it from the brick, shoving it further into the crevices, making it difficult to notice.

“Is post-mortem vomiting a thing, Scully?” Mulder had his back to her but the question had her spinning in her heels, eyes wide.

“Gastric reflexes aren’t limited to bowels, Mulder,” Scully peered around him, getting close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his back as the chilly, night air nipped at their skin. “Did you find something that would indicate the victim might’ve vomited?”

Mulder swallowed hard and quelled the rush of energy she’d inspired by being close to him, aiming his gloved digits at a dried section of stomach contents that had been carefully concealed by a fallen garbage bag. “Bar fare, alcohol, and stomach acid…kind of looks like chunky Pepto.”

“I didn’t need that last descriptor,” Scully cringed and exhaled loudly, upsetting the contents of her stomach in the process. “You’re going to permanently ruin Pepto Bismol for me with that mental image.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think about the consequences of making that comparison,” Mulder adjusted his positioning, honing in on the patterning on the wall, where the blood had seeped into the grout after it had trickled down toward the cement. “It almost looks like they did most of the damage while she was upright and finished her off against the bricks…”

“The size of that wound would have caused Mya to bleed out fast, exsanguination would have been easy,” Scully furrowed her brow and turned toward Jacob as he finished a corner section of the grid. “Jacob, did any of the previous autopsies mention damage to major organs from the wound to the collarbone?”

Jacob reached for the condensed autopsy report out of his attaché case, thumbing through the portions on major organs until his eyebrows aimed up and his eyes met Scully’s. “The wound went so deep that portions of the heart were missing…almost half.”

Scully’s wheels were turning and the theories that Mulder often adopted were floating through her mind. The mangling of a major organ, one that was most indicative, symbolically, of affect, loyalty, and love, was echoing in the recesses of her hippocampus, neocortex, and amygdala. Memory, recollection, and process of every elective she’d taken in college came flooding back, down to the subject matter that she held no interest in. Love, lust, and the division of loyalties. Julius Caesar, _Pride and Prejudice_ , _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , _The Lord of the Rings_ , et cetera. Deeply rooted betrayals on display and each one was sealed with the promise of death.

“Okay, bear with me as I slide uncomfortably into your area of crazy-town,” Scully earned a wide grin from Mulder as she turned her full attention to him, moving her hands as she inhaled a deep breath before continuing. “Mutilating the heart, specifically, might not have anything to do with the victims…”

“You had me at _slide uncomfortably_ , Scully,” Mulder unconsciously licked his lips and watched the pink bloom across her neck as she cleared her throat.

“The missing person cases, with a certain amount of assumption, are murders,” Scully directed her eyes away from his gaze, gathering her thoughts as she felt the diatribe coming on, tugging at the depths of sanity. “The more visceral attacks are almost a response…like a turf war between two factions of beings.”

“Is she always this cerebral?” Jacob’s amusement was written on his face, the condensation vapor coming from his mouth just barely visible as the FBI flood lamps were adjusted in their direction.

“Always keeps me guessing,” Mulder beamed, the shock blending seamlessly with pride as he stared a little too long at the woman that knew how to inspire a level of inquisitiveness. “So, without using the _V_ word too freely, Scully…there’s revenge flying in the air?”

“Passion inspires a lot more than hedonism and sex, Mulder,” Scully let those words slip out of her mouth a bit more naturally than normal and watched as he tripped over his own feet while considering her argument. “It also inspires disagreements, rage, the emotional gamut…Kings have beheaded their wives for a whole lot less.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Jacob stroked his chin and glanced up as a nearby car horn blared and tires began to squeal, reverberating through the alley. “It is almost like gang wars but, maybe, a little deeper? Mob families clashing?”

“With blood lust?” Mulder raised a brow and scoffed, crossing his arms as his eyes moved between both of them, connecting the dots in the best way that he could. “It isn’t unreasonable to look at it this way but it doesn’t explain the random choices and the blood lust…that part is still coming off as vampirism and I can’t shake the feeling.”

“Power play,” Scully stepped into his path and stopped him from taking another step without bumping into her, inches from his chest, her eyes burrowing into him as she looked up at him. “How do you send a signal to leadership that you don’t need them?”

“Do what they do…” Mulder rubbed his lips together and witnessed the satisfied grin forming on Scully’s face as her eyes began to sparkle beneath the stark floodlights. “Only bigger, better, louder, and you hurt them where it counts.”

“Exactly,” Scully cocked her head to the side, indicating the blood peeking out along the brick wall, looking more like a failed attempt at a communique than the signs of death. “If one side chose to end the worst of the worst while the other only cares about destruction…wouldn’t that send one hell of a message?”

“That would certainly cause a stir,” Mulder nodded, taking entirely too much delight in her foray into his realm.

“This is why I reached out to you instead of continuing to let the dusty, old bitches that have no imagination work on it,” Jacob elbowed Mulder and jotted a few things into a small, legal pad, his excitement mounting as he walked a circle. “They’ve all lost the ability to think outside the box.”

The fact was that Mulder and Scully had never really worked hard to find synchronicity. What Mulder had pushed so much for, though, was for Scully to see anything through his scope. Allow the strange and unusual to slip toward the surface. Their wet misadventure in Kroner had illuminated something that Scully had not taken the time to consider and Mulder was only noticing that she was reaching into the depths of the dark; a place she didn’t often venture. What Scully was keeping close to the vest is that she was doing it for him and less for the job.

_…Like a switch has been flicked somewhere…_

“At least he isn’t looking skyward,” Scully knelt as something captured her attention beneath the black garbage bags pushed into the furthest corner.

“Well, in that respect, some things never change,” Jacob smirked in Mulder’s direction and went to adjust the floodlight a bit higher, angling it toward the empty wall and less at the apartment building.

“You wound me, both of you,” Mulder crossed his arms and stifled the chuckle against closed lips as he pivoted toward Scully, then tilted his head inquisitively. “Did you find something that the sweepers missed?”

“I don’t know, I might’ve,” Scully pulled the edge of the garbage bag back and reached, leaning forward just enough to grasp the small, fleshy section between her gloved index and thumb. “I think, I found sloppy cast-off of…flesh. It’s either that or a piece of Mya’s heart.”

“The garbage bag must’ve kept it protected if it still looks like it has some moisture not brought on by the rain,” Mulder squinted at it as Scully slid it into an evidence baggie, the finger-sized section barely recognizable as human. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find DNA other than hers on it?”

“That’s my hope,” Scully sealed it and stood, glancing over at Jacob, who was deep in a discussion on his cell phone on the other side of the barrier. “That can’t be good.”

“What is it with supervisorial Agents and their constipated faces while entering into unpleasant discussions on the phone, anyway?” Mulder made certain that Jacob could hear him as the middle finger went up in his direction while he crossed under the yellow tape.

Jacob shoved his phone back into a front pocket as his demeanor took a turn, the lack of patience brewing beneath his humor-laced façade. “I don’t know if this improves the situation or muddies it up but…we’ve got another missing person and a witness who refuses to say a damn word to the police. Something changed this time, though…”

“What happened?” Scully marked the evidence bag, appropriately tagging it for rush processing while Jacob stood just feet away.

“It happened in a public place in front of traffic cameras,” Jacob clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and lifted the police tape, ushering them toward the sidewalk in a single motion. “We’re taking a ride.”

_Betrayal_

_Is the only truth_

_That sticks._

-Arthur Miller

7:15 PM

123 W 44th Street

New York, NY

The blinds were already drawn, locking out the dull glow of the city lights from a penthouse perch. Two stories, open interior, Gothic inspiration. It had an air of an old cathedral from the exterior with a pseudo-modern interior that didn’t seem to belong. Black lace, satin, and silks covered the beds while plush velvet adorned the couches and the chairs. The lingering, sweeping garlands of silver and black spun around some of the fixtures, railings, and such, with the remnants of congratulations hanging from beam to beam. The party, though, was long gone and the decorations simply needed to be removed or swept away.

Another useless gesture, perhaps…or maybe, it went deeper than that as the deep sigh echoed through the dim square footage.

The day had worn on and the night would be no better as the softest sigh left his lips.

“So much for being inconspicuous,” the remote left his fingers and tumbled onto the floor with a singular thud, capturing the attention of the auburn-haired woman draped in nothing more than a nightgown and robe behind him. “That’s quite the opposite, I’d say.”

“Julian, give it a rest tonight,” Long, auburn curls draped like swinging ivy as she slid her arms around him, nibbling on the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent while dragging her lips to his ear while he rubbed the delicate pendant around his neck. “I want to play tonight…”

“You always want to play, Scarlett,” Julian’s mahogany eyes were fixed on the muted television, at the report of the missing husband and his shaking wife, who seemed relieved over frightened, distance present in those pupils. “She’s at it again—trying to be Ghost Rider or Batman out there in the city streets.”

Scarlett huffed and bared her teeth at him, flashing her blue eyes to red for a split-second as a growl manifested and quelled while she slid off the bed beside him, letting rage equalize. “We are not talking about her tonight…not again. We left, we are proving our worth without her, one way or another.”

“We? Scarlett, you straddled a cop while his lights and sirens were still blazing. I had to knock him out and douse him in vodka so no one would contemplate his story when he woke up,” Julian snapped and rolled to his knees, the silken sheets bunching beneath his weight as he sneered in her direction. “I clean up your messes and you get to dress pretty. It’s an ongoing theme and you’re getting worse, not better.”

“Don’t forget that I get to fuck _who_ I want, _when_ I want, _where_ I want,” Scarlett flicked a finger up the center of his chest, knocking the pendant away from his grasp, and watched his eyes follow her digit as it neared his collarbone, a huskiness devolving in her voice as she met his gaze. “Although, I prefer you, when you’re not obstinate and prude.”

“How could I forget?” Julian’s smirk formed and his tongue crept across the swell of his bottom lip while his lashes fanned, nodding softly. “You couldn’t wait to make sure that you’d marked me with your scent—drowned out what was left of hers.”

“She may have made you, my love,” Scarlett met him at the edge of the bed and squeezed his forearms while leaning forward, nipping at his bottom lip just enough for him to feel the sharpness of her teeth against tender flesh. “…but I’ll be the one that keeps you, body, soul, and breath.”

Julian snagged a considerable amount of Scarlett’s hair and held her in place, locking eyes with hers as mahogany became crimson and a hum fluttered between them from the adrenaline rush and the deeply rooted anger. “I made you, little girl, and I won’t hesitate to break you the second that you think you’re above me, do you understand that?”

Scarlett’s grin was out of magnetism and less of her inner fear of Julian’s threat as the laugh emanated from her belly, reverberating through her until he let go and watched her back away like a retreating cat. “I know my place, my love, but don’t forget that it takes only a moment for your former beloved to understand the reaches of your betrayal if you even contemplate doing the same to me…so if that’s your plan, make it count.”

Julian hadn’t intended on creating a twisted copy of the woman that had led him down a certain path but he had, as her eyes tore him to shreds and built him back up in the same glance. Scarlett was a handful but he’d made his bed with her. Her hunger was worse than his own and that fact alone had him twisted inside at the destruction she craved. She didn’t just adore the dark; she was made of it. It was there long before she let him in and it flourished as he began to cultivate it. Her darkness was his undoing and he was slipping further into an abyss that there would, soon, be no return from.

At some point, Scarlett’s demons would wind around Julian’s and there’d be no coming back from it.

It was the same place he almost was with _her_ not so long ago.

“So, you want to go out, huh?” Julian’s temperament softened as he shut the television off and slid off the bed, sliding up against her as she played with her hair at one of the only curtains still open. “Do you know where you want to go?”

“Of course, I want to go out tonight,” Scarlett grinned and bit down on the corner of her lip as she let go of the tendril of hair while Julian laid a trail of kisses along the hollow of her neck before slipping toward her breasts. “I had a few ideas, but we’ll need to satiate appetites first so no one is…tempted to draw too much attention by getting messy.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Julian slid the top of the robe down, tugging until her shoulders were exposed, breasts just barely hugging the inside of her bodice top while the involuntary moan left her lips. “Don’t stop there…do go on, then.”

“I was slinking around that dank, little hole-in-the-wall, rubbing up against some slutty little blond with clever, agile fingers after our adventure last night and overheard a bit of information,” Scarlett hung on every syllable as Julian pinched her nipple through the thin, lacy material of her tight-fitting nightgown. “Mmmm…fuck, keep going.”

“I like making you wait since no one else does,” Julian could’ve had her bent over a dresser in thirty seconds but he liked the subtle twitch of her muscles with every tease while he gripped her thigh with her free hand. “So…you overheard something?”

“Uh-huh…I did, and it was very juicy,” Scarlett licked her lips, watching his reflection in the window as the city lights danced across the way, the thought crossing her mind of how much she’d love to have everyone below see their display. “The FBI called in a couple of reinforcements from out of town over all of the fun we’ve been having.”

“Sounds like you’d better put on some clothes so we can go sneak around,” Julian bit down on her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, eliciting a loud, elongated moan from Scarlett in the process as a small dribble of vermillion slid down her skin. “I should clean that up first…”

Scarlett let out a low growl, spun around, and jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her eyes flashed red and pupils dilated. “Mmmm…finish what you just started, you fucking tease, then we’ll go play in the dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Eckhart Tolle  
> Rhonda Byrne  
> Arthur Miller
> 
> I’m SO SORRY for the infliction of filth with the Pepto comment. It was unavoidable...and I could not help it.


	4. Bloodlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully stumble onto a rivalry between two individuals who have shared a lot more than history together while being carefully watched by both sides.
> 
> “Fate might forgive greed, or gluttony, or even bloodlust, but it never ignores being ignored.” -Erik Bundy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood·lust/ˈblədˌləst/  
> noun  
> 1\. uncontrollable desire to kill or maim others.  
> "the victims of an insane killer's bloodlust"
> 
> There be teases here

_With a savage grin, he let out_

_An inhuman roar of bloodlust_

_And threw himself into an unholy orgy_

_Of blood, fangs, claws, and death._

-Alan Kinross

8:30 PM

NYPD 5th Precinct

19 Elizabeth St

New York, NY

It was cold in the building and the gentle whistle of the wind through improperly closed windows was just noticeable above the movement of NYPD officers as they went about their night. Mulder elevated a brow at the echoes of voices down both halls while Scully leaned against the interior frame. Jacob was the only one of the three that seemed used to their surroundings as he fidgeted just enough to shift one leg over the other, kicking at the edge of a side table at the entry point. They’d been waiting for fifteen minutes. It shouldn’t have taken this long to locate an empty room for a conversation with Beth, but it was.

Mulder couldn’t help but wonder how New York got the reputation of moving fast with service like this.

“Agents, we’ve got Mrs. Prince in a room with some hot coffee,” An officer finally popped his head out from behind a door, the squeak loud as it moved on its hinges. “I don’t know what good it’ll do…she’s said next to nothing since we brought her in.”

“Have you been treating a victim like a suspect, Officer… _Jenkins_?” Mulder purposely stepped toe-to-toe with him and watched the squirming begin as he moved into the same space, to the first expanse of their squad room. “Because, I wouldn’t talk to you, either, if you were acting as though I were the problem while my spouse was missing.”

“I mean, uh, she was acting a little odd from the get-go and we’re just…ruling it out,” Jenkins was fumbling with his words and sounding more like a rookie than a seasoned officer as he inadvertently looked directly at Scully when he said the word _odd_.

“ _Odd_ as in lacking empathy or _odd_ as in relieved that she wasn’t going to get smacked around again tonight by her abusive husband simply because someone kidnapped him?” Scully couldn’t resist taking a figurative swing at him as she lingered in his personal space, elevating her voice just enough to make him uncomfortable. “…the distinction is important.”

“We’ve taken a step back from coming across as implicative,” Jenkins elevated his hands and gestured toward a pile of tapes that had been swept through several times. “It was cause for concern, though, that she just…watched what happened.”

“Well, you just let us decide where Mrs. Prince sits on the situational aspect, huh?” Jacob smirked and patted him on the shoulder a little harder than necessary, coaxing a grunt from him. “After all, this is our jurisdiction, you’re just lending foot support. We’d prefer that you’d do your best not to muck it up.”

Jenkins didn’t have a comeback but part of his crumbling ego didn’t want to, either, as he opened a door to a small, slightly stuffy room where Beth Prince was sitting at a table, cradling a cup of tea. She barely registered their presence, flinching just enough to acknowledge the flood of people she didn’t know as her eyes stayed downward cast against the cool steel of the tabletop. It was easy to read apathy but it was blatant she was processing the situation, settling on a calm she hadn’t felt in years. The extent of a life with Derek became illuminated beneath the light; scars, bruises in varying stages of healing, and scabbed over scratches that had been poorly taken care of. It was no wonder she had adopted a code of silence over his disappearance.

The poor thing didn’t miss him.

Mulder felt the soft tug of Scully’s fingers against his elbow, silently requesting that he take a backseat as she stepped in front of him. She’d begun doing that unspoken gesture a lot more, as of late. He didn’t seem to mind the excess touches, either, he just hoped it wasn’t because she didn’t want to say it out loud. He’d give her the moon if the lasso would reach. Mulder would give Scully everything if she wanted it; she wouldn’t even need to ask.

Perhaps, she’d already taken most of his heart, and he just didn’t know how to ask if she was keeping it.

Scully cleared her throat and took the seat closest to Beth, folding her hands across her lap, carefully choosing her words. “Beth, I’m Special Agent Dana Scully…I’m here with my partner, Fox Mulder, and Supervisorial Special Agent Jacob Metcalf. I know that you’ve been through an ordeal today but we just need to talk to you about what happened in the park today.”

Beth set the cup down and tucked her hair behind both ears, lifting her chin just enough to give a good indicator that Scully’s presence changed things. “I already told the cops that I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t,” Scully knew how to tap into the emotional triggers as the black eye and slightly swollen lip were both hard not to notice on her pale skin. “You’ve been here, questioned more than you should, and it’s been a lot…but, the more people that go missing, the harder it will be for us to stop them.”

“What if they shouldn’t be stopped, Agent Scully?” Beth finally looked at her, conveying the mixture of sadness and elation that had been sitting behind her eyes as she let the tears fall, saturating the sleeves she’d been tugging over her fingers. “Monsters are the men that break things that are supposed to be precious to them…the things they promised to protect and honor.”

“You’re not a _thing_ , Beth,” Mulder’s voice was barely above a whisper but it affected as her eyes moved to him, slowly. “You’re a vibrant woman.”

“Who has spent ten years in a gilded cage being told she was worth less than every possession next to her,” Beth straightened her spine and pressed her palms against the table, narrowing her eyes at them. “Agent Mulder, is it? No one seems to comprehend that I want to care but I don’t…”

Jacob hadn’t sat down yet but he was drawn into their line of questioning, approaching it from a slightly different perspective as he leaned against a far wall. “I get it…the guy was a douchebag. I just need to find out if the people who did this are just as bad. The last thing I want is to get a call in a week that they hurt you for sport. We don’t know them, Beth, but we can tell a lot about you by those marks on your face. Give us anything that could help.”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Beth scoffed at Jacob, specifically, and gathered the cup of tea, taking another sip as she slid away from the table. “…I don’t know if I fully believe it.”

Mulder’s ears perked and the opportunity to chime in came tumbling forward as he tilted his head to the side. “You’d be surprised by what I believe in…try me.”

Beth was fidgeting now and a pensive expression had replaced the tentative one as her knee bounced repeatedly. Nerves were blooming. Recollection hadn’t brought about a fear that her husband still lived but what had taken him in the darkness. She didn’t want him back but, in equal measure, she liked the anonymity of the woman and the man that had made quick work of her abuser. Those eyes were still flickering in her memory, from green to red, the striking hues inspiring so much more than fear.

“I’d always tried to imagine a day when I’d encounter something truly terrifying,” Beth addressed Mulder this time, a level of seriousness in her voice as she crossed her legs and fiddled with the end of her braid as it moved across her shoulder. “The kind of horror that you’d only read about in a book, you know? The kind that makes your blood run cold.”

“Fairy tales?” Mulder questioned, grasping at any imagery that might get her to focus.

“Something like that,” Beth nodded and smiled despite herself, rubbing her lips together as she inadvertently blushed. “I should have been petrified but all I felt was comfort as I stared down the definition of a revenant, evil personified…but their faces, were perfection.”

“You’re going to have to explain that a little further, Beth,” Mulder was furrowing his brow as her demeanor was shades different than when they’d arrived, almost as though she were captivated at the remembrance.

Beth sighed softly, cupping her palm against her cheek to quell the heat bubbling to the surface. “Beautiful, evil creatures that wanted nothing more than to rid me of all troubles that I’ve experienced being married to Derek…with an unquenchable thirst that he didn’t likely tame for long.”

Scully made direct eye contact with Mulder, internally screaming for him not to say the word. Mulder was salivating at the implication. It was hanging in the hair like fog and the scent was tinny, like blood. Scully bit down on her lip, hard, and crossed her arms as she leaned against the backrest, hoping he’d keep his feet on the ground. Mulder couldn’t resist tiptoeing around the topic as he angled forward, resting his elbow against the cold tabletop.

“What were they doing to Derek, Beth?” Mulder could feel Scully’s eyes on him, burning a hole through the side of his head before the question even left his lips.

Beth hid a smile, taking a bit of pleasure in her husband’s suffering. “They were biting him, Agent Mulder, until his lips went blue and the light went out in his eyes.”

_With wild eyes,_

_She welcomes you_

_To the adventure._

-Jonny Ox

9:45 PM

Jeremy’s Ale House

228 Front Street

New York, NY

Miranda sat with her back to the wall, blatantly eyeing a couple perched at a table across the room. She and her company were terribly overdressed compared to the other guests in the bar but she didn’t care; the attention was something she enjoyed. Her stoic company, however, was less than pleased to even be there. He seemed less interested in scoping out the dwindling menu than he was with pushing the condensation down the side of his beer stein. Annoyance was written on his face and Miranda was doing her best to ignore it.

“This place reeks of bad decisions, piss, and mentally defective college boys,” He finally muttered as he raised the glass, tugging her attention away from making eyes at the delicious-looking man and woman lapping up mixers. “Is there a reason we couldn’t have gone somewhere classier?”

“I like a little grit, Declan,” Miranda glanced at her fingernails, at the gold and ruby bauble collecting light, shimmering in the light, her little smirk appearing as she looked at him. “Do you forget the kind of place I found you in? It wasn’t entirely different from this one. You were vomiting everything but your memories, from what I recall.”

“Ah, yes, your hero complex,” Declan’s squared jaw and muscular frame carried a deeper secret, marked by every scar that lay beneath his well-tailored suit. “I’m your dove with the broken wings.”

“Do I detect a hint of frustration in that voice or are you just hungry?” Miranda glared while squeezing her fingers around a section of loose lace hanging from her sleeve, tantalizing him as she bared her teeth. “You know it’s too early and I’m not planning on being reckless tonight.”

“With the FBI digging deeper into things, I don’t even want to venture out tonight,” Declan crossed his arms as he scanned the bar, quietly observing the moderately thin crowd as they hugged their drinks. “Something edible will gravitate toward us as we shut in tonight.”

“Do you really think I’m scared of them?” Miranda was flippant as she licked her lips and closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling a sharp breath that developed into a moan as she exhaled. “We may not have to wait all that long tonight, my love.”

“Oh?” Declan nearly drained his drink and caressed her thigh beneath the table, intrigued at the prospect. “What are you tapping into, darling?”

Miranda stroked his skin as he pushed his fingertips against her a little deeper, pushing the seam of her slacks against a nerve. “There’s a rather tall, uncoordinated man attempting to take advantage of a young woman in the men’s restroom…and a backway out that we’ll have plenty of opportunities to finish him off in.”

Declan stood, offering his hand to her. “Before he traumatizes her any further?”

“You read my mind.”

_I never craved attention_

_Until I tasted yours_

-Unknown

10:30 PM

The Broome

431 Broome Street

New York, NY

“I can see why the Bureau didn’t put up a fight when Jacob set up the accommodations in a really nice SoHo hotel,” Scully still had her bag in hand, the look of shock written as she stared at a single, queen bed in a room that was, by all accounts, meant for romance.

“Put your things down and quit acting like this is bad,” Mulder came up behind her and pried her fingers apart, unintentionally breathing down the back of her neck as he moved into her personal space. “This is nice.”

Scully’s knees buckled as his voice vibrated against her and his digits against hers inspired heat along her palm. It was the first time they’d been completely alone all day and Scully was studying him far more than she wanted. A single, queen bed was going to make the budding tension in her stomach that much worse. Scully couldn’t help but think about the flight and the missed opportunity to finally be brave in front of Mulder. It was almost as though she’d preferred to be hiding in the dim, pretending as though nothing had happened.

“This is supposed to be meant for some couple who wants to insert a little spice into their relationship, Mulder,” Scully tossed her coat across the back of a chair and slid out of her heels, stretching her arms high above her head while moving out of his sphere. “Not two FBI agents on assignment.”

Mulder was halfway to the bathroom door, a groan echoing in the room as he flooded the space with the white light from above. “Say _insert_ again, Scully…”

“Why do I put up with you?” Scully rolled her eyes and meandered toward the sliding door, peeking out at the balcony through the gap between the curtains. “This really is idyllic, isn’t it?”

“Scully, there is a picnic table on a balcony right outside the bathroom! This place is insane!” Mulder was shouting from around the corner and had her laughing in a moment, the shock coming across like a little boy who had found the parents hiding place for presents. “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room or not?”

“What elephant in the room?” Scully squinted her eyes and opened her bag, pulling out the toiletries tote before tugging the pajamas free from between a pair of jeans, hoping she could sneak into the shower first even as she heard the water running. “You mean the fact that you tried so hard to hint to Beth that her husband was attacked by blood-sucking vampires who have been aimlessly wandering the streets night after night…lusting after the scent of blood? You mean that elephant?”

Mulder had a grin etched across his lips as he came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waistline until the hair stood on end on the back of her neck, his voice husky and low. “No, the one where you’re still insisting on pretending like you didn’t have your hand precariously positioned on my crotch on the flight today…”

“Jesus, Mulder,” Scully could already feel him again, against her back, and it made her head swim at the sensation that she’d elicited such a response a second time. “I just…assumed that it was friction and stimuli in cohesion. I wouldn’t have done it purposely.”

“The groan in your direction wasn’t enough of a hint when you pulled your hand away? You had your inordinately twitchy, little fingers there for a long time,” Mulder could have knocked her over with a feather as he heard the air go out of her lungs with a gasp while he tugged the bottom of her shirt away from her midriff. “My concentration didn’t fully recover.”

Scully’s eyes rolled back as she worked harder than normal to concentrate, her thoughts running circles as the blissful line in the sand was blown into chaos. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t…mean…I thought you were asleep.”

“I wasn’t clear enough?” Mulder vocalized again, this time directly against her neck as his left hand gripped her thigh until a whimper escaped her mouth. “Scully, did you need an invitation? I thought draping my coat across you and part of me was more than clear…”

“Oh, fuck, what are you doing? What are we doing?” Scully dropped the toiletries and pajamas as Mulder’s teeth grazed her neck while his thumbs popped the bottom button free on her shirt. “Mulder…what are you trying to start?”

“What does it feel like I’m trying to start?” Mulder knew the question was redundant with every button he undid as a subtle amount of delight rose within his chest. “I can stop if you want me to.”

“Yes, I mean, no, I just,” Scully stammered and inadvertently held his hand in place as he started to move it away, the physical response doing all of the talking as she swallowed hard and whimpered softly. “We have so much to go over for this case.”

“It can wait,” Mulder twitched over the sound that left her mouth and hummed against her skin, breathing harder than normal. “It isn’t going to go anywhere.”

“Oh God,” Scully nearly crumbled as she bit down on her lip watching his hands do so much more than unbutton her top. “Why now? What changed?”

A melody a breath dotted along Scully’s neck as Mulder gave her a not-so-subtle reminder of intention with the slow grind of his hips against her. Hunger manifested in a low moan as Scully’s hand snaked up, cradling his cheek while he continued exposing snowy flesh to the air with every button he freed. It didn’t seem real but it certainly felt like it. They’d both been circling it but Mulder had taken the bull by the horns with the curtains wide open. Mulder lavished her neckline with soft, wet kisses while the steam in the bathroom began to flood into the main room. He had left the water running on blast.

It was as though time stood completely still as Mulder’s index finger glided along perfectly smooth skin, rising higher until he’d met the curve of Scully’s chin.

“Kroner,” Mulder spun her around and encouraged her up to the tips of her toes, teasing her mouth with the swell of her bottom lip as he gripped the back of her head through the locks of red hair. “…when the opportunity presented itself too many times and neither of us could see the fucking signs. That’s what changed.”

“You left the water on,” Scully already felt naked as Mulder dragged the linen down her arms, discarding it on the bed behind her while their gazes stayed locked on one another.

Mulder pushed her lips apart with his bottom lip, grazing her teeth with his tongue until she started to chase his mouth, continuing to tease her. “You’re not the only one that needs a shower, Scully, and…it’s the quickest way to get you out of your pants.”

Scully’s arms went around Mulder’s neck, tapping at the skin just below his hairline as impulses flickered and moved them. There were no regrets and no emotional confession driving them forward this time. Nothing important enough to become a distraction this time. They’d waited a long time and the fumbling was evident as Mulder was kicking the toiletries toward the bathroom while devouring her lips, tasting the leftover mint of gloss she’d snuck in. With every article of clothing discarded, they disarmed each other even further and left hesitation behind. Nothing existed before heat collided with passion.

They were so consumed in the solace and care of one another that they didn’t notice the prying, bright red eyes watching from the edge of the balcony, shrouded in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Erik Bundy  
> Alan Kinross  
> Jonny Ox  
> Unknown
> 
> Tease...tease...it leads somewhere, I promise. It all has a point and I’m not being a total bastard leaving it hanging like that.


	5. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the afterglow of passion spilling over, Mulder and Scully become blind to what lurks in the shadows…unaware that their scent has attracted exactly what they have been looking for, becoming the hunted.
> 
> “Seduction isn’t making someone do what they don’t want to do. It’s enticing someone into what they secretly want to do already.” – Benjamin T. Russell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mark1 /märk/  
> verb  
> past tense: marked; past participle: marked
> 
> 1\. make a visible impression or stain on.  
> "he fingered the photograph gently, careful not to mark it"
> 
> Prepare for ye olde smuts

_If I had a heart I could love you_

_If I had a voice I would sing_

_After the night when I wake up_

_I’ll see what tomorrow brings_

-Karin Dreijer Andersson

10:45 PM

435 Broome Street Roof

New York, NY

Scarlett and Julian had been following Mulder and Scully for the better part of the evening, carefully staying just out far enough from the perimeter not to look suspicious but close enough to hear everything. They could’ve been another two hundred feet away if they’d wanted but Scarlett craved danger. She liked the proximity, the readiness of getting caught, and excelled at putting them at risk. She perched along the bricks, swinging out to peer into windows, and finally settled on a single window. The scent that had been intoxicating her for hours had led her there. Their scent led her there.

“It isn’t going to take long for Miranda to develop a serious crush on that Agent Mulder,” Scarlett glanced at the back of Julian’s head as he leaned against a metal fixture, the moon shining on him as it peered through the cloud cover. “He looks so much like her favorite prototype…if you know what I mean.”

Julian knew what she meant as he refused to flinch. There were small details that didn’t match but Mulder and Julian shared physical traits that no one could deny. Mysterious eyes, dark hair, strong features, and prominent jawlines. He’d be a fool to say otherwise. Hell, Miranda would be a fool if she put up the pretense that she wasn’t about to play a dangerous game to attempt to lay claim to something that didn’t belong to her.

It wouldn’t have been the first time, though.

“Are you just going to sit here all night and watch them?” Julian was staring at the horizon, at the shimmer of city lights in the distance while his thirst lay dormant in his belly, momentarily satiated. “Or are we going to go find something pretty and delicious to play with?”

“They’re both hot and...well, well, well,” Scarlett let out an elongated giggle, swooning as she bit down on her lip for a moment while watching the agents through their hotel room windows. “I’d say that Agent Mulder and Scully have been waiting for a long time to uncork that bottle.”

Julian turned and joined her on the thin ledge, snuggling up against her just in time to witness the two stumbling into the bathroom where steam had been gathering from the hot, running water, feverishly undressing one another. “Fuck, I can smell the adrenaline and pheromones from here, I’m impressed. That’s been lying in wait for quite some time.”

“Reasonable to assume that it’s their first time?” Scarlett wetted her lips and squeezed her thighs together as her nostrils flared, the overwhelming hunger awakening within her as she sank her nails into her flesh, almost enough to draw blood. “That’s better than any drug and watching them makes it even better.”

“Absolutely the first time. Just look at them and combine it with raw energy. They’ve been holding it back and now, the floodgates are open,” Julian didn’t necessarily have his eyes on them but he breathed against Scarlett’s neck as he tugged her thighs apart, “You have no interest in going out now, do you?”

“I will after this…you know I like to do more than just watch,” Scarlett hummed as his palms gathered along hot skin, teasing her as she rolled her hips forward, against his hand. “Why is being voyeuristic while they paw at each other so fucking hot?”

“Because, they don’t know we’re watching them breaking the ice,” Julian nipped at her earlobe and hiked up her dress to access the thin fabric of her panties, giving next to no care for the chill in the air as the moan left her mouth. “The way they’re colliding, though, they’ve been imaging it for ages. They have no reason to take their time or savor the taste. They can be like uncaged animals and devour every, little, inch of one another with no reason to stop.”

“Without even realizing they’re a fucking aphrodisiac,” Scarlett already felt the absence of her panties as she swung her leg up and around Julian, straddling him against the cold, hard bricks with a twenty-foot drop to one side. “Mmm, clearly, I’m not the only one not in need of any foreplay…”

“Unrestrained, pure, white, heat,” Julian enunciated every syllable and throbbed against her as his eyes rolled back, momentarily caught up in the moment as heat swarmed every appendage like electricity. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Julian bit down on her neck, leaving a stinging reminder of her maker, and held a fistful of hair as a thrust filled her completely. Their eyes locked gazes for only a moment before wandering back to the unfolding, meant to be private, scene behind the sliding door in the neighboring building. They’d watched so many intimate moments, but none seemed to carry the kind of weight that this one did. None were so unyieldingly consumed with one another that they even stopped to question the curtains. The price to pay for their kind of freedom was the overwhelming transference and the sensory overload that walls couldn’t even stop. Julian leaned forward, craning Scarlett’s head back awkwardly until her breasts slid out of the top of her corset and her mouth silently begged, all while his eyes fixated on Mulder perched carefully between Scully’s thighs.

It was in that moment that Julian’s eyes flickered red and every nerve overfired as he dug his fingers into the stonework, crumbling bits of it into dust.

“Yes, baby, yes, keep going, don’t stop,” Scarlett’s voice was hoarse as she barely lifted her head to look at him while her nails finally drew first blood as she gripped his shoulders, the stuttered moans echoing from the roof. “Don’t _fucking_ stop!”

It was instinctive, guttural, and animalistic as they both saw red before the thumping of pulses rattled through them. It was the only time they felt alive. It was the only time that they felt the agonizing sting of death all over again. Their groans harmonized and Julian flung his head back with a final thrust that nearly sent Scarlett over the wall. Her legs tightened around him and the stiletto dug in, scraping the pristine flesh of the backs of his thighs until the air permeated with the scent of sex, blood, and the cataclysm that was life and death.

“I could get used to that,” Julian’s hips slowed and his hands gripped Scarlett’s waist, lifting her into an embrace that smeared and mingled their blood as he lavished her with an aggressive yet, surprisingly, loving kiss. “It’s too bad they aren’t a nightly event.”

“You know your old flame is eventually going to catch on to the wickedness we’re doing right now,” Scarlett stroked his cheek and smeared the blood across his cheek, a faraway look in her eyes as the dilation and crimson hue finally softened. “Let’s clear out, clean up, and find a little doll to play with?”

Julian took a final look at the agents, their night barely beginning, and began to nod as the smile took over his mouth. “You’re never satisfied, are you?”

“Nope,” Scarlett smiled and shoved her wadded-up panties into his pants pocket before straightening out her dress. “Just the way you like me.”

_Lead me into your darkness_

_When this world is trying its hardest_

_To leave me unimpressed_

_Just one caress_

_From you and I’m blessed_

-Martin Gore

Tuesday, October 13, 1998, 12:30 AM

The Broome Hotel

431 Broome Street

New York, NY

The carpet showed the evidence of previously wet toe impressions, haphazardly scattered from the bathroom door to the bed. Clothes, strewn about like little trail markers, were everywhere, professing so much more than a sequence of events that led to the destroying of pristine sheets. There was still electricity in the air and the sweet sound of soundless exhales as fingers spread across the Egyptian cotton. Scully arched her back, coiling her fingers around the sheets while Mulder was concealed beneath them. His mouth had encircled her clit, applying just enough pressure to drive her close to the edge again as the tremble worked through her. The moan was louder than intended and aimed at the ceiling as she elevated her shoulders off of the bed, peeking underneath the sheets at him while he gripped her hips.

“God, Mulder, are you trying to kill me or impress me?” Scully bit down on her lip and ran her fingers through his hair, desperation in her voice as it went ragged with another whimper. “I’m already so close…again.”

“Don’t hold back because of me, Scully,” Mulder tilted his chin up to look at her, purposely moving his lips painstakingly slowly across the most tender of flesh until she was tugging at his hair while he shoved the sheets back. “I could get used to hearing the sound you make, looking at your face as you finally spill over, over and over.”

“Now you’re just being cruel,” Scully spasmed beneath him, bucking her hips against his chin involuntarily as he grazed the edge of her clit again, the groan coming out in a hiss through her teeth. “Mulder, please, fuck…don’t tease. There won’t be anything left to finish.”

Mulder had already reduced Scully to a nonsensical pile of mush in the shower, eclipsing his ideal of lovemaking beneath a cascade of water that had begun to run cold. It was frenetic, messy, and yet, they’d reached perfection in each other’s arms. They weren’t satisfied with it ending in the curve of porcelain, though, as limbs entwined and mouths collided while they moved backward until meeting the edge of the bed. Long-awaited might’ve been accurate but it wouldn’t have been enough as cold met heat and Mulder kissed a trail down every inch of Scully’s body. He simply couldn’t get enough of her curves.

She couldn’t get enough of every one of his edges.

“What if I don’t want it to end? What if I want to carry on for as long as I can until we collapse?” Mulder crawled up between her legs, admiring the alabaster and softly pink beauty beneath him as he leaned down to nibble on her neck while her digits smoothed around his biceps, encouraging him close. “Jesus, you’re fucking beautiful, Scully.”

“So are you,” Scully was already enthralled, lost in the flecks of green, gold, and mahogany that gazed down at her, the world all but undone as the first thrust was achingly slow. “You’re an overachiever…Do you think you’ll only have me for a night, Mulder? Does this seem that fleeting?”

Mulder held his breath as Scully gradually angled her knees a little higher around his hips, guiding him and directing him even closer, demanding more of him as her back arched up, bridging the gap. “Ah, fuck…I don’t want to lose you again and I have a habit of losing everything that I care about, Scully. I don’t know what I’d do if I did.”

“Then don’t lose me,” Scully had a bead of sweat working its way down her temple as every nerve throbbed and cried out while her limbs began to shake. “I’m here and I am so ready to...let go.”

Mulder didn’t want to air it that he was deathly afraid of letting Scully slip through his fingers and the way he held her, caressing as much of her as he could, spoke volumes. He wanted to memorize every freckle, every line, and she simply wanted his love. She’d already given hers, in spades. She’d given him everything and the craving simply deepened with the first touch. Scully could never go back to the way it was; not that she would ever want to.

They fit together too perfectly.

Scully smoothed her thumb along the rise of his Adam’s apple and beamed up at him, pulling his lips back to hers, giving so much more than a kiss as she lifted her head off of the pillow to suck his bottom lip between her teeth. Mulder groaned into her mouth and buried himself deeper, thrusting his hips until the headboard mercilessly banged against the wall. Scully was past the point of elation as the mattress shook beneath her with every move they both made. She gripped the space between his shoulders as her toes touched the soft material of the sheets, lifting her backside off the bed just enough to meet every jolt, urging him on. They were both hanging by a thread as lips separated and moans finally escaped, reverberating in the room.

The sound of their names, ragged and relieved, bounced off the walls and settled between the sheets, where the elongated purr hovered between them.

“Happy Birthday, Mulder,” Scully murmured into his ear, the knack for dates a happy coincidence as she was wrapped around him like a glove.

“That’s certainly not how I expected to turn over another year of life, Scully,” Mulder could barely hear her above the sound of his heart beating up in his ears, the sweat on his forehead.

“Disappointed?” Scully couldn’t help asking.

“Not at all,” Mulder exhaled slowly, staggering his breaths as his heart continued to race in his chest as he came down off the high while refusing to move from the comfort of being nestled between Scully’s thighs. “If I crush you…just…smack me on the forehead. I just want to feel you for a while if that’s okay?”

“I’ll just tell you that you’re about to deprive me of oxygen, Mulder,” Scully’s intoxicated grin was radiant as a lull passed over both of them, as exhaustion kicked in and muscles softened as they embraced one another. “This might be better than spooning…aside from the lingering flutter against my pelvic wall.”

“I’m not responsible for him. He has a mind all of his own,” Mulder knew he was still quivering and it was involuntary despite how good it felt as he nuzzled against the softness of her breasts, grazing a nipple with his stubble, coaxing a gasp. “…Whoops, sorry, Scully.”

“There was nothing whoops about that and you know it,” Scully still had the deep flush in her cheeks from orgasm and the hint of sensation spreading through her nerves from the softest of touches only intensified the color. “Some of us need a recovery period.”

Mulder laid a kiss along the bridge of her nose and gradually eased to a spooning position while becoming even more tangled in the sheets. “I should have turned off the light…”

“Leave it alone, you’re not moving. I’ve slept with the light on before,” Scully dotted her fingertips along his arm as he possessively pulled her to his chest, kissing the back of her neck while she nestled her head against the pillow, fluffing it with her free hand. “Remind me later to get you another bag of sunflower seeds.”

“Appreciate the payoff, huh?” Mulder chuckled and licked his lips, the remnants of her sex lingering on his mouth just enough to send a jolt through him. “Next time? I’m pulling the top sheet off the bed.”

Before Scully could even bother to comment in return, the high-pitched jingle of Mulder’s cell phone destroyed the quiet solace they’d been enjoying. They sighed in unison and rolled their eyes in the direction of the draped coats at the table, just out of reach. It wasn’t late but it was an unwelcomed irritant and they already had their suspicions as to who was interrupting. Mulder groaned and rolled out of the bed, giving Scully an ample view of his backside, crossing the floor to retrieve the annoying cellular device. He glanced back at her as he held it to his cheek, delivering a wink as she leaned against her elbows to admire the view.

“You’d better have a damn good reason for calling this late,” Mulder meandered back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to her as she came up beside him.

Jacob’s laugh was loud enough that Scully could hear him, his amusement more than a little evident as they both glanced at the clock. “What? Did I interrupt you making a few of those stale midnight moves on Scully?”

“Go fuck yourself, Metcalf,” Mulder didn’t want to grace him with an actual response but Scully’s naked form next to him wasn’t helping the matter as he felt his dick beginning to swell beneath the corner of the sheets. “You don’t just call to shoot the breeze this late at night…”

“If you’d calm your ass and let me finish,” Jacob was still thoroughly caught in the delight of his joke while Mulder elevated an eyebrow at Scully as she casually draped a leg over him. “One of our bloodsucking factions got a little sloppy this evening and wasn’t able to take the body away when they finished exsanguinating her…”

“So, we’ve got an actual body instead of another missing person?” Mulder watched Scully’s ears perk as she tilted her head to listen a little more carefully, narrowly missing the budding erection in the process.

“Correction, old buddy, we’ve got two and one of our guys got a shot off at one,” Jacob altered the situation, revising the circumstances as Mulder caught a blissful glimpse of Scully’s ass before she disappeared into the bathroom. “Get dressed...and saddle up.”

_You never can win_

_It’s the state I’m in_

_This danger thrills and my conflict kills_

-Susan Ballion/Steven Severin/Peter Edward Clarke/Daniel Elfman

1:45 AM

400 East 56th Street #32MN

New York, NY

Miranda had been stoic and strong as Declan carried her, concealed from the doorman, from looky-loos, up to the thirty-second-floor co-op. Her breaths were becoming staggered, the tips of her fingers were turning purple, and the veins were looking like frozen pathways up her arms. She’d been quiet, carefully hiding away the extent of the damage as Declan flung open the door and bypassed the main living room, aiming for the tub in the nearest bathroom. Declan’s knee found the edge of the porcelain finish, propping her up against the cold top, finally exposing the wound. The blood trickled from the entrance and the exit of the wound as he shoved his coat behind her head, gently rocking her back until she was lying against the pristinely white surface with a smear of red dribbling toward the floor.

“You’re going to be fine,” Declan soothed as he ripped open her top, exposing where the bullet had seared through her, and watched as she pushed her palm against it, desperate to hold it together. “I need to clean you up and sew that up…”

Miranda seethed, hissing at him as she snatched him by the shirt, pulling him close as she glanced at the position of the wound and felt it twist at her side. “No…you have to burn it. Cauterize it. I can take it...it’s better this way.”

“I am going to burn the little FBI bitch that did this,” Declan was losing his composure as he yanked his belt off and temporarily affixed it around the wound, stopping the flow as Miranda stared him down. “They’ll pay for your suffering.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Miranda cooed away some of her pain and held herself up just enough to give him the best angle at remedying the situation at hand, smearing blood across the icy white finish as she used far too much energy to flicker vermillion at him. “Go get the cauterizer…right now. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Declan didn’t open his mouth a second time as he wiped his hands on his pants and disappeared into the hall, leaving Miranda alone with her thoughts. She hid the bitter sting as her hands shook around the metal fixtures, gripping to stay upright as she felt an icy flood filling every crevice. Miranda swallowed hard and glanced at the mess she’d already made of the floor, at the beautiful shade of crimson against the stark, white marbling. She let out an incredulous laugh as Declan’s footfalls approached, tapping louder with every step. There was already a faint odor of burning accompanying him as he carried the cauterizing kit.

“I don’t have to tell you that this is going to hurt,” Declan’s devoted gaze was immovable as he knelt in front of her, cutting away as much of the shirt as he needed before removing the belt. “…hold on, my love.”

There was no hesitation from Declan as Miranda’s stare burned through him as he pressed the hot iron to the exit wound first. Miranda’s nostrils flared as the heat seared through her and the smell of her burning flesh nearly made her pass out. Her fingers coiled tighter around the towel rack, misshaping the metal in the process until it loosened from the fixture. Declan pulled back, waited for the nod, and moved to her abdominal wound, sinking it just enough to make her bite down on her bottom lip until she was nearly certain she’d break the skin. She refused to scream. She refused to shed tears.

This was their own doing, and she was going to take every ounce of pain with dignity, with repose.

“It needs to breathe for at least an hour before it can be wrapped,” Miranda slumped forward, resting her chin against his shoulder as exhaustion set in and loss of blood had fully tapped her out. “I should—”

“Do nothing but let me tend to you,” Declan lifted her chin and placed a kiss on each eyelid before moving his thumb across her lips. “I’ll clean you up, then the floor, and get a bag from the freezer.”

“It isn’t as good as fresh,” Miranda found herself pouting as he started the water behind her, getting the heat flowing for her feet. “We failed to take the girl to burn her.”

“I’m afraid, though, my darling, that you bled the fresh all over the marble…” Declan cracked a smile. “Sloppiness became our weakness tonight with the smell of fresh pheromones in the air. We can’t let it happen again.”

Miranda nodded as he guided her out of the soiled clothing and onto the edge of the tub to dangle her legs in the water, the weakness evident as she leaned against the marble tile wall. “I have a plan for that problem, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Benjamin T. Russell  
> Karin Dreijer Andersson  
> Martin Gore  
> Susan Ballion/Steven Severin/Peter Edward Clarke/Daniel Elfman
> 
> *grinning* Okay, okay, okay...I’m not one to jump into a double-dose of smut but...whatever...I hope it was well-received.


	6. Obliterate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discovery of a body leads to chaos between the two sides as a recovering Miranda eyes a little more than revenge as Mulder and Scully begin to pick apart the crime scenes.
> 
> “In order to understand, I destroyed myself.” -Fernando Pessoa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ob·lit·er·ate /əˈblidəˌrāt/  
> verb  
> destroy utterly; wipe out.
> 
> "the memory was so painful that he obliterated it from his mind"  
> cause to become invisible or indistinct; blot out.
> 
> "clouds were darkening, obliterating the sun"

_There are seeds of self-destruction_

_In all of us that will bear only_

_Unhappiness if allowed to grow._

-Dorothea Brande

Tuesday, October 13, 1998, 2:30 AM

Rockefeller Park

75 Battery Place

New York, NY

“We’re dealing with more of the same with the familial witnesses,” Jacob’s blue FBI coat was already drenched from the downpour at the rail edge of Rockefeller Park, pushed up near an observation area. “Abused children, a teenager covered in bruises, and no father to speak of…it’s a mess.”

Scully knelt at the edge of the tarp, lifting it enough to see the damage done. Her skin had already taken on a blueish pallor, lips almost deep purple, and the edges of the punctures looked like spider legs in motion. The defensive bruising lit up along her elbows, wrists, and neck where they’d held her to subdue her, but she never stopped moving until the end. She fought until there was no fight left in her. Scully utilized her pocket light to peer beneath their victim’s eyelids, observing the trauma that had occurred. Ocular hemorrhage and collapse of the nerve process.

Scully glanced at Mulder as he paced, momentarily pressing her lips together as if to silently convey just how bad it was.

“None of that ESP shit that you two got going on,” Jacob swatted Mulder, jostling him enough to get his full attention as the precipitation came down like mist. “We use words to discuss shit.”

“The attack point isn’t entirely different from the one in the alley,” Scully continued to hold the edge as she shined her light on the marks, moving in a circle after tilting the victim’s chin just a touch. “Sets of two, they add up to six in total...the first four run parallel but the final set perforated the windpipe. Those punctures are slightly larger than the previous four and they went deeper.”

“Bigger teeth?” Mulder blurted it and watched Scully’s eyes roll as she adjusted her position while grunting from the discomfort. “Come on, Scully, the even spacing is perfect for sets of teeth…”

“We’ve been fooled before, Mulder,” Scully reminded him and gestured toward Jacob with the evidence collection kit next to his thigh. “However, ruling out something pertinent might help us get somewhere…there’s a residue around each hole. Metcalf, would you carefully swab each one and get that sent out?”

“Really get in there or just a little scratching of the surface?” Jacob had Scully cringing at the way he asked it, but he was genuinely curious as he knelt while snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “This isn’t my forte.”

“Try not to dig around in the wound but get enough of that clear, sticky fluid that is on top and just inside each one,” Scully didn’t want to consider it toddler behavior but he was less than skilled and seemed even more squeamish than Mulder as he held back a gag with the first swab. “You good?”

“If he pukes, I get to tell you his college nickname,” Mulder bent at the waist and said it just loud enough for Jacob to glare in his direction while setting up the remaining swabs. “It’s not my fault that some things never change.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jacob was thankful for the breeze to tug the stench of death away as the visceral nature of his task was impacting the rest of his senses far worse than anticipated. “Is that enough or do you need more?”

“Did you get one for each?” Scully was mildly amused, but she resisted the urge to laugh as she pressed her lips together and watched him stand as he nodded silently, the green hue coming out in his face. “We need to have a conversation with the agent that got the shot off at the assailant.”

“They have to be debriefed because of the weapon discharge without their partner present but they’re all yours after,” Jacob was in the process of labeling the evidence container, marking down everything as Scully angled the tarp a little further back, exposing the victim to her abdomen.

“Did anyone notice that she has a blunt object between her fingers or was that simply, overlooked?” Scully directed the beam of light onto the woman’s hand, at the tightly clenched digits around an object with a pointed tip aimed along the thumb. “There’s blood on it.”

Mulder took the opportunity to assist, gathering an empty baggy from the evidence kit before kneeling close to Scully, rubbing up against her as he reached down to pull the object free. “Well, that’s an unexpected object to find.”

“What in the hell is that?” Jacob had seen plenty of personal self-defense items before and had no idea what he was looking at as Mulder wrapped the baggy around it.

“That’s a Chinese hairpin and a lot of women use them for basic self-defense in a pinch,” Scully started to cover the woman back up, lingering for a moment as she took a long look at her face before standing to let go of the tarp. “…aside from the fact that she was an abusive mother, what do we know about our victim?”

“She had a bad habit of thinking no one was watching when raising a hand to those kids,” Jacob glanced at the notes from the first responders and the agent that discharged his weapon. “Drinker. The kids have been in the system already…a hearing and a year’s worth of supervision put them back into her care.”

Scully’s stomach turned at the idea that an unfit individual had multiple chances at being a mother while she was facing a bleak future of little possibilities. She didn’t want to admit that the biological clock applied to her and, despite the circumstances, she would’ve given anything to have raised the child that was never meant to be. It tugged at every part of her heart and the icy layer that had hardened her had been because of the twists and turns that cancer had created. Mulder was her only constant. Mulder was the only solace in so much darkness.

“What is your brain working on, Scully?” Mulder nudged the small of Scully’s back as her eyes were staring out at the Hudson as the wind began to pick up. “I can hear you thinking from here.”

“The deaths were spaced out before but the window between has become tighter each time,” Scully pulled the latex off and folded them into each other, holding the wad in her palm as she continued to think. “The sloppiness, the greed, the attention-seeking…they’re doing this on purpose to cause a stir.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily equate brutality with the mundane behaviors of teenagers, Scully,” Mulder scoffed and leaned against the railing, his back to the river while his bedroom eyes caught her at just the right angle as she looked at him. “Are you implying that they want someone to notice their apparent good deeds?”

“Since I have to eavesdrop to get in on these super-secret conversations between you two, I’ll just inform you both that my trigger-happy agent did let everyone know that whoever he got a shot off at, was a woman,” Jacob sauntered next to Mulder and invaded his personal space with an elbow on his shoulder, acting more like an irritating brother than a former colleague. “She had a male friend with her but the instigator was female.”

“A female, vying for attention,” Scully elevated a brow in Mulder’s direction, satisfaction in her voice. “Doesn’t sound out of the realm of possibility, does it?”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Mulder’s shoulders slumped and he stepped forward, unable to avoid her grin. “Gloating is beneath you, Scully.”

Scully tilted her chin, addressing Jacob this time, the smirk fading as the mist became rain. “Let’s go have a conversation with that agent.”

_Beauty is_

_Transformed over_

_Time, and not_

_Without destruction_

-Terry Tempest Williams

123 W 44th Street

New York, NY

It was quiet inside the pre-war building and Julian had been busily tossing heavily stained clothing into the open flames of the fire while Scarlett lay soaking in the tub. Julian squatted, watching the flames lick higher with every jab from the poker as he maneuvered the embers around until there was nothing left but wood, ash, and coals. This had become routine and oddly cathartic, he’d decided. Scarlett humming upstairs while he contemplated any end in sight. Of course, it was all a fantasy, just out of reach.

Out of sight and out of mind, like so much of his life.

Scarlett’s footfalls were soft, marred by the squish of moisture, as she moved effortlessly along the smooth tiles and marble finishes. “You’re awfully quiet, my love…are you worrying again?”

“Wondering what it would be like to leave New York and start over somewhere else,” Julian had his thumb and index swirling around a pendant dangling from his neck, deep in a sea of memories that were beginning to fade. “Do you ever think about what it would be like to just be normal again?”

“Have you been sneaking into the Glenfiddich without me?” Scarlett had a weak smile as she wrapped her chiffon and silk robe shut, tying it around her waist while kneeling beside him on the hearth. “You’d give up immortality for something that resembles mediocrity in normalcy when you have more than you ever dreamed of? I wouldn’t have you without the life we have…you know that, right?”

Julian adjusted to a seated position as he tossed another log onto the fire, sending little sparks up into the flue, narrowly missing his fingers in the process. “We both had families, Scar. They did love us and we left them, for a promise at eternity. I am deeply sorry that I stole that away from you.”

“The only thing you stole from me was the grief of a dead husband. What’s got you down, Julian?” Scarlett caressed the top of his hand as he continued to clutch the pendant, his eyes cast down toward the floor as she did everything to get close to him. “Everything comes with a price and the one we paid was losing the things we care for…to taste more than love, lust, and life.”

“Power, incessant hunger, the ever-present lies, watching every person that ever knew you become nothing more than a memory, and pretending to be someone else every…fifty years,” Julian rolled his eyes and glanced at the ceiling as a laugh left his lungs, the ache spreading through his limbs. “To know I’ll never be called dad again.”

“You’ll never be alone,” Scarlett found his cheek with the tips of her fingers, tilting him back to her with a gentle stroke as they became shades different than they were on the rooftop. “…I may not be your first love but I’d like to be the last if you’ll just let me. Claim what’s left of the stone inside my chest. It’s yours.”

Their life had been anything but loving but, in the weakest of moments, Julian felt a semblance of it creeping in as her voice softened and a warmth managed to tip the scales. They’d both been turned from rage but, in one another, they’d found the fire to stoke. In it, the flame flickered, undimmed. It hadn’t gone completely out…not yet, anyway. It was the last of their burning embers that hadn’t been ripped apart by the woman that came before.

_Miranda._

Her name crushed what was left of their souls and tore them asunder. She was worse than any plague sweeping through cities, laying waste in her wake and inspiring fear alongside tragedy. She was the undoing and the apocalypse waiting. She was the reaper, carrying her scythe everywhere she went. Her legacy was nothing more than death with no opportunity for redemption. No chance at making amends for the commission of sin.

“At some point, though, the suffering has to end, somehow,” Julian kissed her forehead and set the iron poker onto the hearth before cradling her hand within his, tenderly moving his fingers across her skin. “Do you think there’s still time for absolution?”

Scarlett’s sigh deeply resonated and her eyes closed, the words swirling in her head before they could manifest. “There are few that are too far gone but we just might not be welcomed with open arms.”

“You’re both pathetic, you know that, right?” Miranda’s low, labored laugh broke through the contemplation and sadness, drawing them both to their feet in an instant. “I didn’t nearly die tonight so you two could wallow in your own pile of self-pity.”

“How in the fuck did you get in here?” Julian’s irises flashed a deep shade a red, darker than they’d been in ages as his fangs finally bared at Miranda, seething hate toward her. “No one invited you and you’re not welcome.”

“Oh, you mean your poor excuse for security?” Miranda grinned, the leather and steel boned bodice holding her tight as she took labored steps, limping toward them. “You’re going to have a mess out there—I’m still in need of a feed and they barely filled the emptiness.”

“You fucking bitch,” Scarlett gripped the air, balling up her fist as she did everything she good not to lunge across the floor to eviscerate Miranda, spatter what was left of her life force all over the walls. “What do you want?”

“The audacity you just displayed by coming here,” Julian had his digits wrapped tightly around the fire poker, his thoughts flashing to how easy it would be to spear her with it as he adjusted the grip on the wrought iron. “Speak quickly and get the hell out of my home.”

“You only wish it were going to be that easy and tonight has proven to me that if I am going to get what I want, I am going to have to take extreme measures to assure it. You understand, don’t you, Julian?” Miranda was within arm’s reach of Scarlett, the game of strategy bleeding through her words while she winced and pressed her lips together.

“What in the hell does that mean, Miranda?” Julian wasn’t amused while he kept Scarlett in his sights, her head in his direction with an expression of readiness on his instruction. “Get on with it or I’ll make sure that you can’t go back to your new beloved.”

“It means I am done playing with you and you are done receiving my charity, sweet boy. Now, say goodnight,” Miranda didn’t give him time to understand as a concealed, unsheathed blade against her wrist slid forward and elevated with the shift of her hand, slicing Scarlett from ear to ear.

Julian didn’t recognize the sound of his wailing as he caught Scarlett in mid-drop after a spray of blood hit him in the face. Miranda didn’t come there for games. She wanted to take something else away from Julian and the color of crimson and white blending together struck him to his core as he didn’t bother to chase the woman. His fingers desperately covered the wound as the blood continued to gush, the futility setting in as Scarlett’s brilliant, bright eyes looked up at him with so much affection. She wasn’t struggling with the end but there was fear there as her fingers wound around his wrist, gripping at what was left.

“Stay with me,” Julian begged, wishing that tears would finally fall as he felt the insolent sting of sadness creeping in.

Scarlett pointed at the pendant, dragging a line of blood across his chest in the process, the agonizing breaths slowing to a dull crawl. “…I am part of you.”

Julian gritted his teeth, finding another layer of buried rage as life left Scarlett. He cradled her, sliding his fingers through her hair until he’d soaked her tresses with blood. Miranda had added another layer of suffering to his life and something snapped within him, setting in motion something he’d never contemplated. He wanted to end her and didn’t care if it was quick, or not. She didn’t deserve a quick death but she deserved to have that escort back to hell, with finality. The orange and red of the fire caught his periphery, dancing along the walls as his index moved a circle in the deep vermillion on the marble. Miranda wouldn’t know what was coming. She wouldn’t know how to react and there’d be no stopping him.

Revenge was in his sights.

_The only way to find true happiness_

_Is to risk being completely cut open._

-Chuck Palahniuk

3:00 AM

26 Federal Plaza – 23rd Floor

New York, NY

“Agent Garza, these are Agents Mulder and Scully, my consults from DC that I mentioned earlier,” Jacob was watching the young field agent fidget from across the large conference room table, the hum of the air conditioner still running in the middle of the night. “They’ll be asking you some questions about tonight. Just answer them truthfully.”

“There’s really not much to tell,” Phillip Garza was unnecessarily nervous for a man that had been in law enforcement for a considerable amount of time.

“You just let us be the judge of that,” Mulder didn’t want to admit that the need for sleep was vastly overwhelming the capacity for thinking as he popped his neck and continued. “We just need to clear up a few things about the shooting tonight. You mentioned to superiors that the person that was attacking the victim was a woman, correct?”

“There were two,” Garza was spinning a pen in front of him, nervously coping with the start of his questions. “A man and a woman. The man was considerably larger than the woman but she was the instigator and had control of the situation—she also captivated the victim until the moment that she attacked. I heard a name, too...She called the woman, Miranda.”

“How long did it go on before she attacked? Were you there the whole time?” Scully was having a hard time imagining anyone letting their guard down, especially when exposing their abuse in public at night. “We’re looking for a woman named Miranda?”

“Yes, I think so,” Garza closed his eyes and captured his lip between his teeth, thinking hard about the words as his mind garbled the recollection before making eye contact with Scully. “I had been looking for Mrs. Hale, the victim, for a follow up on an investigation we’d been conducting on her case and saw about six minutes? Enough to know she was conversational with her attacker before the situation occurred. I took the shot…”

“Wait, you were investigating the victim?” Mulder’s head snapped as he made eye contact with Jacob, an air of accusation swirling as everyone did a double-take over the revelation.

“I might be the SAC here but I don’t know about every investigation in the field unless they’ve strayed from the task,” Jacob was scrambling, shaking his head, and frustration was mounting as he stared at Garza, doing his best not to raise his voice. “What in the hell were we investigating Mrs. Hale for?”

Garza straightened his spine and indicated a thick manila file sticking out from the edge of an expandable case, hesitation in his voice. “Mrs. Hale was involved in a trafficking ring. She was setting it up to sell her children to the highest bidder. The FBI became involved as an undercover buyer. I was the UC.”

Jacob finally raised his voice, undeniably perturbed as the shit was hitting the fan on three different investigations. “That case never had a formal assignment on it and if your field rep decided to take it upon themselves to create an operation without processes approved—”

“Improper chain of command might’ve caused this,” Garza cut him off and stared at the table, his voice small and defeated.

“You’re Goddamn right,” Jacob slammed his hand against the table and dragged the files from the folder, his eyes firmly on Garza. “You just jeopardized three open cases and caused a death in one of them.”

The mood, much like the temperature in the room, had gone bitterly cold. The air in the building soured and the scent of death permeated from the ventilation overhead. Scully was the first to notice as her sense of smell kicked into overdrive while Jacob continued to rip Garza a new asshole. Scully gripped Mulder’s wrist, tugging his focus from the poorly conceptualized Q&A as she grimaced and rose from her seat. The stench thickened, wafting into their nostrils as Mulder followed her toward the duct outlet just above the windows, eyes honing on the tremor working through the floors, the walls, the cavernous space.

“What in the hell is that?” Mulder questioned the foul odor as they narrowed the distance between themselves and the window, the oscillation only growing as they neared the window.

“The wind must be blowing in something through the ventilation,” Jacob glanced at them as Scully was eyeing the slits in the vent cover. “NYC’s endless supply of stench.”

It was a lot more than the perfume of New York City’s sewers and garbage colliding in the fall air. It was something so much worse as the windowpane began to shudder and buckle under pressure from the outside. Mulder focused and reached for Scully’s hand as the foreboding crack of glass had him purposely standing between her and the window. The shatter was deafening and the hollow shrill of air ushered in the elements just before Scully could make out the distinctive silhouette of Miranda as she wrapped her arms around Mulder’s form. The deep, cerise hue of those eyes sent a chill down Scully’s eyes as she desperately reached for Mulder’s hands, crunching glass beneath her heels.

“You smell like heaven, darling,” Miranda pulled him beyond the jagged bits of glass around the sill, winking in Scully’s direction as she dropped backward before Scully could draw her weapon.

“No, no, no,” Scully leaned forward at the window, pressing her palms into the broken glass until she could feel the familiar warmth of blood seeping from her skin while she looked down the side of the building, at nothing more than emptiness while Jacob and Garza scrambled behind her. “Mulder!”

_This can’t be happening._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Fernando Pessoa  
> Dorothea Brande  
> Terry Tempest Williams  
> Chuck Palahniuk
> 
> It’s winding down and winding up...the twists and turns are worth it!


	7. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian chooses to right a wrong in the name of vindication while Scully races to find Mulder before Miranda offers him a choice that there is no return from.
> 
> “It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.” -Oscar Wilde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ab·so·lu·tion /ˌabsəˈl(y)o͞oSH(ə)n/  
> noun  
> 1\. formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.  
> "absolution from the sentence"
> 
> Note: Description of blood spatter, bloodletting, and moderate depictions of violence. Proceed with caution. Also, I am taking some liberties with lore; bear with me if it isn’t perfect. (Timeline is simply so I could use the time change – I need early darkness)
> 
> The abandoned Chelsea Bank at West 6th was recently demolished. I hope no one takes offense to what I did to it.

_Can you walk on the water if I, you and I?  
Because your blood's running cold outside the familiar true to life  
Can you walk on the water if I, you and I?  
Or keep your eyes on the road and live in the familiar without you and I  
It glows with gates of gold to true life_

-Agnes Caroline Tharup Obel

3:30 AM

Swarms of agents and NYPD officers flooded the conference room after Miranda busted through a window to snatch Mulder. Scully hadn’t moved despite the need for print and evidence collection. She was numb, angry, and conflicted as the dulling pain along her palms throbbed through her, reminding her all over again of leaning out the gaping space to scream his name. He was so afraid of losing her but here she stood with bloody palms, petrified by the prospect of not knowing how to find him. It was the distance to the ground that had the fear creeping in alongside the deepening rage of the look on Miranda’s face.

“You need to put something on those cuts, Scully,” Jacob was trying to soften the blow as he barely touched a hand to her elbow, the sound of his voice yanking her out of the clouds while the blood was still dripping from her hands. “You’re going to faint if you keep losing blood.”

“I’m fine,” Scully was obstinate as she shook her head while moving away from the window with every emotion lit up on her face, barely acknowledging the cherry red drips she was leaving all over the floor. “I can’t just stand here. I need to find him and lingering in this spot is going to just waste time while he’s out there.”

Jacob nodded gently and followed her after snatching the first aid kit from the back counter, pulling it apart as he struggled to keep up. “You’re going to do him no good if you drop and can’t go out there. I know what he means to you and I need you to stop so I can wrap those fucking wounds.”

Scully spun around, a wisp of hurt in her eyes as she started welling up in front of him, the urge to deny her feelings unreal as she pushed her index finger against his chest. “You barely know me and you don’t get to tell me that you know what Mulder means t—”

“I know that you love him even though you don’t dare say it where anyone else can hear it,” Jacob cut her off and wielded the gauze, alcohol pads, and antibiotic ointment at her, narrowing his stare as he called her out plainly. “Of all people to lie to, I am not it, Scully. I can read it all over his face _and_ yours. Now let me put something on that before I make it a fucking order.”

Scully relinquished the fight and held out her hands, palms up while letting stray tears fall despite the best effort to hold them in. “Profiling another agent should be a punishable offense in the FBI.”

“Denial should be as well,” Jacob sighed and wrapped her left hand first, carefully tying it off before addressing the other, taking a look at her face as he continued. “We’ll find him and he’s going to be fine like he always is.”

“We are over twenty floors up,” Scully was still in denial of the prospect of Miranda and associates being superhuman, even with Mulder’s life hanging in the balance. “I wouldn’t know where to start with that kind of distance?”

“Scully, that was probably Miranda and she went up the twenty-three floors to get to him,” Jacob finished the right hand and tossed the kit across the floor, aiming his hand toward the elevator at the end of the hall. “It’s apparent that you look to science, first and foremost, but what about physics?”

Scully raised a brow, giving him a studied, pensive look as the doors opened to usher them in. “Vampires with strength, agility, and catlike reflexes—able to scale up and down a building? Metcalf, you’re worse than Mulder.”

“No, really think about it,” Jacob was talking with his hands, waving them about as he pressed the garage level on the controls just inside the elevator before they waited to descend. “I’m willing to bet there are finger-sized holes in every window from the ground level up to where she jabbed her way up but the only one she wanted to break was the one she knew we were behind…”

“It doesn’t make sense but I know Mulder would put everything into finding me if I were the one out there," Scully paused, the words hanging in the air. "...and I know he'd risk everything, including his life, without hesitation."

Jacob wasn't smiling but he nodded into the cold night air, leading the way. "Never has done anything with less than all of the effort...has he?"

“Not at all...you know, if you expect me to go with your theory then you’re going to indulge in where we go for advice,” Scully held a breath as she followed him into the cavern that was the parking structure, the wailing of the city echoing in the background. “173 East 3rd Street.”

“Are you asking me to take you to the Most Holy Redeemer?” Jacob opened the driver’s side door of his car and watched her walk around to the other side, the disbelief growing as she held the handle and shrugged. “Come on, why?”

“I’m not going to be asking for advice from a priest, but there is a chance that he’ll know more about the dark secrets of this city than anyone would want to admit,” Scully knew he was going to roll his eyes as she looked out at the rain as it fell. “If anyone is going to know about vampires, it’s going to be the men that feed the body and blood of Christ to parishioners. Just trust me.”

Jacob rolled the car down the ramp and onto the street, scrutinizing Scully’s face for a moment as they waited at a red light. “Does Mulder put all of his trust into you like you’re expecting me to right now?”

“Yes,” Scully had her eyes straight forward as she ran a single finger over her cross, recollecting the look on his face as they were tangled in each other’s arms. “…but that has always gone both ways. I trust him with my life and I know he’d be doing the same thing to find me.”

“We’re going to find him,” Jacob wasn’t the greatest at comfort but he was trying. “You know he’ll never give up.”

Scully bit down on her lip and exhaled slowly. “Neither will that woman.”

_I could smell you  
Right through the walls_

-Martin Vorbrodt/Frank Spinath

3:45 AM

531 W 6th Ave

New York, NY

The room was spinning and nausea had set in as dust, wet paper, and the mustiness of an aged interior invaded Mulder’s hyperactive senses. His eyes didn’t want to focus and the dim wasn’t exactly helping from behind a pillar and a stack of old, decaying boxes. Mulder pulled his knees up and coughed up the inhaled grime, spitting it in the direction of a dribbled puddle of blood that had come from his nose and bottom lip. He licked his lips and squinted as the distinctive tinny taste of blood moved along his tongue. Miranda had done everything she could to secure him, imprisoning him in the quiet desolation with only the distant sounds of traffic outside.

“Welcome back, Mulder,” Miranda’s voice sent a deep, agonizing chill down his back as he narrowed his eyes into the dark until he could see the fuzziness of her figure against the wall. “Sorry about your lip…and your nose.”

“Where the hell am I?” Mulder groaned as he kept his weakened stare trained on her, blinking rapidly as the haze began to clear and his eyes finally focused enough to identify features. “You just stay where you are. I know who you are and I know what you do to people.”

“My reputation precedes me, then?” Miranda smirked as she continued to bridge the gap between them, delighting a little at him as he squirmed against his restraints. “Testosterone and fear smell different on you. I’m sure you didn’t know that.”

“The only smells that I’m aware of are BO, cologne, aftershave, and the fresh scent of Calgon,” Mulder needed the humor to diffuse the growing mental bomb within him as he could see the tips of her fangs shimmering in the muted light, her emerald eyes burrowing into him. “…and when I’m feeling frisky, Irish Spring.”

“Mmmm, there’s more of that fear,” Miranda knelt beside him and trapped his chin with her fingers, licking away the blood that hadn’t dried to his skin even as he tried to yank his head free. “You have nothing to worry about unless you plan on making this process difficult, being disrespectful, or refusing me. I have a feeling, though, that you’ll comply.”

“See, there’s this little issue in the compliance part,” Mulder was sliding his backside away from her, the genuine concern in him growing as his conflicted thoughts were traveling to Scully, to the search he knew was coming, somehow. “I have a feeling I know what you want and I’m certain that I don’t want to be buying what you’re selling.”

“I’m sure that you’ll discover that your options are limited and I can be quite convincing,” Miranda caressed his cheek and glared as he twitched beneath her touch, repelled by her advances. “Has anyone ever told you that you have one of the most sculpted and attractive jaws in creation? The Gods would be jealous.”

“You’re the one that started all of this, aren’t you?” Mulder was certain that he was going to regret this but he couldn’t help it as he pushed the first button while jerking his head away from her, rattling the chains around his wrists in the process. “Playing the siren out of water that seduces the weakest parts of people, reduces their resistance, before destroying the only semblance of good that they have left…so all that exists is you? Is that about right?”

“What did I tell you about being rude?” Miranda glared and stood, pacing the floor for a moment before sliding back down, straddling his lap to push his head firmly against the pillar, growling at him. “It’s because of that little redhead, isn’t it? You’re buying time because you think she’s going to get here and save the day. After all, it’s what you’d do for her? Maybe, I should make every decision easier on you and just end her. It’ll be easy.”

“You touch her and I will make certain that you die, one way or another,” Mulder’s protectiveness over Scully burned behind his eyes as he seethed at her while she pushed her fingertips into his neck until his pulse thrummed against her skin. “I promise you that.”

“So, that’s the other little thing I’m smelling on you,” Miranda leaned in, listening to his breaths as they became labored against her neck while she exhaled against his. “Unrelenting desire for your pretty, delicate, blue-eyed partner. You know, that’s your weakness, right? You refuse to let her die…it’s why you’ll do anything over the tiniest of threats.”

“Fuck you,” Mulder gritted his teeth and swallowed hard after an agonizing attempt at taking in a breath. “Leave Scully out of it.”

Mulder knew the truth rooted in Miranda’s taunts. Scully was more than his weakness. She was air in his lungs, his fleeting chance at life, and the closest thing to happiness he’d touched in years. A flash of remembrance of his mouth against Scully’s worked into his consciousness and tapped into his emotions, tugging at the waiting tears until his eyes glassed over. Miranda had gotten some of what she’d wanted but it was only the beginning as she released her grip on his neck and admired the wisps of blood in the aftermath.

It was then that Mulder could see Declan waiting in the wings, watching like an emotionless gargoyle that had been deprived of his free will in her honor.

“I am going to take my time, make it hurt a little,” Miranda licked the droplets of blood from her fingers and cooed at Mulder as she grasped a handful of his hair, tilting his head back until he was staring up at her. “…you’ll be begging for me to finish it off and turn you, my pet.”

“Miranda, is it?” Mulder inhaled until his lungs hurt and let it out in short bursts as the dizziness set in.

Miranda nodded, intrigued that he already knew. “The very same.”

Mulder’s weak smile crept across his lips, his ornery nature refusing to back down even as he felt the warmth of his blood creeping along his skin. “I will never beg for anything and I am not your pet.”

“Oh, but you will be.”

_I seek sanctuary  
Take me in  
Keep me safe  
I seek sanctuary  
Take my sins  
Keep my faith_

-Joakim Montelius/Eskil Simonsson

173 E 3rd St

New York, NY

The bells in the steeple hadn’t been tolled yet as the lack of reverberation ushered the eerie quiet before Scully pushed the large front door shut, tracking the rain into the entrance of the massive Catholic church just behind Jacob. He glanced back at her as he smoothed his wind-tossed hair, casting more of the rainwater in every direction. It was quiet and dark inside, almost too quiet. The pulpit, backlit at the opposite end of the sanctuary, did nothing but inspire worry as she held a breath and took a few, tentative steps forward while Jacob lingered behind the final aisle of pews. They should have been greeted by someone by now.

“It’s not exactly a small building, is it?” Jacob knew they’d be wandering around, aimlessly, in the massive Parish. “Couldn’t have picked something smaller?”

“This isn’t even the largest,” Scully shrugged and took the first few steps toward the front. “Catholics aren’t known for small displays of worship.”

“I can see that. I’m going to go see if anyone is in the back offices, you check the doors up there?” Jacob’s eyes were big as he became increasingly overwhelmed by their undertaking and at the prospect of the passing of time. “Shout if you need to…”

“I’ve got it,” Scully’s hands were dangerously close to mocking Jesus Christ as she patted the gun at her side, the white of the gauze partially stained red along the palm as she moved her fingers around. “Don’t cuss at a nun.”

Scully had been in so many of these buildings before, at various points in her life, but her mind was elsewhere. She glanced at the darkened confessional and let out a deep, palpable sigh as she passed by. She didn’t need the reminder of unconfessed sins as Mulder’s face being pulled out that window was ripping apart her heart, piece by piece. There was nothing pure in the way she felt as she resisted the urge to ball up her fist as she moved closer to the massive stairwell next to the devotional, the soft, dancing glow of recently lit prayers illuminating a section of the statues behind it. Worry took over as the ascent became a series of announcements with each step she took.

“Crap,” Scully bit down on her tongue as the darkness above grew and the need for the flashlight finally became evident. “Come on…”

The narrow beam lit her path up the curve and led her to a fork where the balcony split and a library began. Her heart was already aching and her focus was less than perfect as she moved into the open space of the balcony, doing her best not to trip over objects as the floor began to curve and shift in abnormal directions. The cursing, muttered under breath, was indecipherable as she grabbed onto the edge of a lower level pew and held herself up after falling forward with little grace. Her knees met the carpeted floor with a thump and her left palm pushed far harder against the wood, bringing out a painful groan in the process. Scully was in desperate need of light and the small, pocket light was doing almost nothing to assist even as she shined it across the flooring in front of her.

“You certainly aren’t blessed with the ability to see in the dark, are you?” Julian had taken the sneak approach to an entirely different level as he moved his chilly palm across her mouth while his other secured her from moving before she could begin to struggle. “Don’t scream. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Scully froze but it wasn’t out of fear or obligation for his request as his lack of body heat had her questioning everything she knew. She was reticent but he had not attempted to disarm her. There was something oddly trusting in his voice even as Scully contemplated the loaded weapon on her hip. She nodded against his grip, vocalizing just enough to indicate some level of understanding. His grip softened and he relinquished his dominance over her, only to have the barrel of her gun pushed uncomfortably against his chin.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to tell me who you are and give me a damn good reason not to splatter your brains all over the walls of a church,” Scully kept her footing and aimed the light in his face, illuminating his face. “My patience is all but gone and I’m not afraid to pull the trigger.”

“I’m the other half of the problem you’re investigating. My name is Julian and that girl in the alley, that was me, I did that,” Julian had no hint of sarcasm in his tone as he kept his hands at his sides, shrugging just enough to irritate Scully a little more as she pushed him into a pew. “I didn’t come here for any of that. I can help you find Agent Mulder, I know where Miranda would take him.”

“Why should I believe you?” Scully was raising her voice, the emotional upheaval climbing with every breath at the mere suggestion that he could help her. “You brutalized dozens of people and now you want to help? I call bullshit.”

Julian lifted his hands in the air and gently pointed toward his chest, toward the shimmering bauble around his neck. “Just look at it and you’ll understand a moment of why I’m here, why I can’t keep going like this. I’d rather beg for absolution and accept the death that comes with it than continue with ever-present hunger…and a soul that severed itself from me a long time ago.”

Scully holstered her gun and tugged the pendant free, shining a light on the back of it, with an inscription on it that barely stood out from the wear and tear of time. _“Julian Isaiah Dumaine, Happy Thirty-fifth Birthday…love Colette and Marie._ What is this supposed to mean, exactly? Why show me this?”

“Look inside the locket,” Julian’s chin dropped at the sounds of their names, his sigh weighing him down as Scully clicked it apart.

Their faces were soft but worn and in black and white. Ringlets, elegant jewelry, the snuggling close of the small child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. They looked happy and full of life. Scully ran her thumb across the glass, wiping away the grime of history, and glanced at Julian once more before focusing in on the child in the photo, who shared his nose and his lips. They were his family. Scully pushed it closed with care and let go as Julian kept his eyes cast down at the floor.

“Why now?” Scully felt the strings of her heart tugging as she began relating to him over his visible grief. “It’s obvious that you’re… _immortal_ and have everything you ever dreamed of.”

Julian shook his head and looked up at her, his eyes piercing through her almost invasively as the ache in his battered, dying soul cried out. “There was a fire and I was the only one that got out. Miranda found me, told me that my family had perished, and promised me everlasting life and a second chance at a love like the one I had…but all I’ve found was pain, suffering, and watching others have what I lost in the flames.”

“She left you, didn’t she?” Scully knew what the words of a broken man sounded like and he was to that stage as he sat in the dark. “Julian…please, I don’t know how much time I have and my partner is out there with her. I don’t even want to guess what she’s trying to do to him.”

“She used me up, molded me into her pet, and then cast me out for plaything after plaything,” Julian wrapped his fingers around his locket and clenched his jaw as he confessed to her as though she were his penitent saint. “I wanted to feel again and the moment that I did, she cast me out, killed the only other creature that loved me as Colette did. It took seeing you and your partner together to know that’s what it was.”

“Wait, what?” Scully’s eyes widened as he stood and encroached on her personal space, backing her in a corner. “What are you talking about?”

Scully already knew what he was referring to as the heat flooded her cheeks with embarrassment. She could hear Mulder moaning her name and the undeniable refrain of his from her lips. Julian had watched it. The curtains were open. She wanted to throw up even as the thoughts returned every sensation at the most inopportune time. She felt wretched and judged in the confines of a church.

“God will not judge you for being in love, Agent Scully,” Julian had a semblance of a smile on his face as his icy bloodstream still carried the sensation of sensuality with every breath. “I’m not going to apologize for watching through that window, but know that Miranda will not stop until she has him. You made her crave him...and she’s downright afraid of you.”

“Why on earth would she be afraid of me? She scaled twenty-three floors to get to him, I’m hardly the one to be feared,” Scully cleared her throat and directed the light in his face again as his cocky grin started to irritate her. “Tell me how to find him and stop this.”

“There’s something unique in your blood that has her on her haunches because I can smell it on you. It’s a marker that you carry, he doesn’t,” Julian’s smile faded as he held his palm to his chest, pressing until he felt what was left of a beating, frozen heart. “Miranda is a creature of habit and she has favorite places to hide. She won’t try to claim him until the sun goes down. It prolongs suffering.”

“Where would she go?” Scully could feel the tears licking at her waterline as the contemplation of Mulder suffering helplessly.

Julian glanced down at the crucifix, at the face of Jesus Christ illuminated in the dark sanctuary, before looking back at Scully. “There are four places she uses. I will help you look through all of them.”

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Oscar Wilde  
> Agnes Caroline Tharup Obel  
> Martin Vorbrodt/Frank Spinath  
> Joakim Montelius/Eskil Simonsson
> 
> If your brain is alerting you to something...you should be. It was screaming at me, too.


	8. Denial and Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully makes an alliance with Julian with the hope of getting to Mulder before the unthinkable happens…while Mulder grapples with the effects of mental and physical torture from Miranda and Declan.
> 
> “Twice I would die for a little more once with you.” – Atticus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doubt /dout/  
> noun  
> 1\. a feeling of uncertainty or lack of conviction.  
> "some doubt has been cast upon the authenticity of this account"
> 
> Note: Description of blood spatter, bloodletting, and moderate depictions of violence. Proceed with caution. Also, I am taking some liberties with lore; bear with me if it isn’t perfect. (Timeline is simply so I could use the time change – I need early darkness)
> 
> The abandoned Chelsea Bank at West 6th was recently demolished. I hope no one takes offense to what I did to it. Oh, and I know that the Stratosphere has always had a bar on level 107, but I don’t know if 107 SkyLounge was the name back then. I’m just using it because that’s the name now.
> 
> This is, by far, the longest chapter. I hope it doesn't droll on.

_What you touch you don't feel  
Do not know what you steal  
Destroy everything you touch today  
Please destroy me this way_

-Daniel Hunt

4:30 PM

531 W 6th Ave

New York, NY

Miranda sat in a corner, pensively watching the unpleasant physical display being put on by Declan as he lifted Mulder off the floor, throttled him by the throat, and let him crumble. Mulder could barely breathe as he felt his ribs uncomfortably shifting against his midsection, the telltale sign of fractures. He gagged against his spit and the dusty air as it filled his lungs until the pressure was just too much to take. It had gone on too long but he wasn’t going to wave the white flag. He was not going to give in.

Not to Miranda…the cost was too high.

“This can all go away if you just make your choice, Mulder,” Miranda slid off of the well-worn, aged desk and slinked in his direction, heels tapping aggressively against the tile as Declan manhandled him to a standing position. “You’re far too attractive to have Declan run a razor deep enough to leave nasty little scars and he’s itching to play with your face.”

“Is this your idea of people skills?” Mulder wheezed and watched a vein pulsating on the center of Declan’s forehead as he couldn’t mask his sarcasm anymore. “I think you missed the boat on this one.”

“I want to tell you a little story,” Miranda stroked his cheek, smearing fresh crimson across his skin like she’d applied it with a brush, highlighting the tiniest scrape it had come from.

“I’d walk away so I didn’t have to hear it, but I’m a little stuck,” Mulder grunted just as Declan pushed three of his fingers against the tender spots at his side, cracking another rib in the process. “Fuck…son of a bitch. Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll kill you and dangle you from the Brooklyn bridge,” Declan had been quiet for hours but he finally broke his silence as he bopped Mulder across the windpipe until he coughed and choked from motion in his throat. “Shut the hell up, cretin.”

“Now, now, my darling,” Miranda gave Declan a tender, borderline unfeeling kiss, and squeezed his bicep as she looked up at him with a smirk. “There’s no need to injure without instruction. There’s plenty of time for that.”

“I’m starting to regret the eagerness of investigating vampires again,” Mulder was hoarse and bright red as Declan let his feet touch the floor, the soreness moving through his neck and throat as he swallowed and took careful shallow breaths. “Should’ve just stayed in my lane this time.”

“Stop talking,” Miranda held up her index, hovering it over her mouth, directing him to be silent as she paced around the pillar, chewing on her bottom lip just a touch while contemplating her words. “I have a fascination with beauty and tortured, wounded men like yourself, Agent Mulder. I take them away from their meager, troubled lives, and help them to forget every second of sadness, being second-guessed, and lift them back up to something great. No more settling for less than the best.”

“Is that what you call using and abusing the male species?” Mulder’s rasp was softening as he swallowed, the lack of enchantment by her clear as he shook his head. “I call it sociopathy and it’s treatable with psychiatry.”

“I said _stop talking_ ,” Miranda left a stinging reminder across Mulder’s bare cheek, the impression of her ring pushing into his flesh as she slapped him so hard that he listed against the chains around his wrists. “You cannot tell me that you are content with the life you lead because you think you’re in love with the redhead you had in your bed last night. I have been on this earth for over two hundred years and men are all the same…easily persuaded, manipulated, and directed. You are no different.”

“I am far from the normative of all men, Miranda,” Mulder moved his jaw, the stinging pain from her palm moving through his face as he looked her in the face, shaking his head gently. “I would die for her.”

“You’re aware that I’m not going to leave anything left for your beloved Scully to save if you insist on being stubborn, right?” Miranda smoothed her thumb across his lips as she nearly ignored Declan’s presence entirely despite the heft he was holding up. “She’ll find a broken, mutilated corpse that she can barely recognize as one belonging to you. All she’ll have is the memory of you.”

“The threats from you remind me of every superior with delusions of grandeur, that wanted me buried in a basement,” Mulder clenched his jaw and swallowed blood mixed with saliva as he cringed at the taste with his fingers weakly holding the pillar at his back. “That thought sending Scully would end me but she did the opposite…she inspired me to fight. Exactly as I’ll continue to fight with every breath against you.”

“It’s humorous that you still think she’s going to show up before you’ve expired,” Miranda grinned and took a step back, snapping her fingers at Declan after keeping her gaze locked on Mulder. “You’re about to feel the worst kind of pain and I guarantee that you’ll be yearning for me to stop before Declan has even reached the halfway point.”

“The fire you think you have within you burns so much brighter in Scully and I’ll never give up or in as long as I know she’s out there,” Mulder’s legs were struggling to hold him up even as Declan kept a grip on the collar of his shirt, the weakness and pain set in as the desperate thought was focused on thinking of Scully’s face. “You’re not going to get what you want.”

“Oh, Mulder,” Miranda leaned in close and bit down on his jaw, just enough to leave a mark but not break his skin, tasting the mix of blood and sweat on his face before moving back to look at him. “I always get exactly what I want, one way or another.”

_Let me die before the ones I love_

_For losing them first would kill me twice._

-Atticus

5:30 PM

6th Ave and Houston

New York, NY

“Julian, we’ve been to three places and the daylight is nearly gone,” Scully turned her head, peering into the backseat at him with an itchy trigger finger as she glanced at her sidearm. “How do I know you haven’t been leading me around the city so your former lover can sink her literal teeth into Mulder?”

“She’s not going to sink her teeth into him,” Julian had one window open, the night air and the scent of the city wafting into the car, his nostrils flared as he made eye contact with Scully. “That’s not how it works, and we don’t have far to go…It’s a scent we’re looking for, his scent specifically.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jacob nearly drove onto the sidewalk at the implication, his concentration failing as he took his eyes off the road for a moment.

“Metcalf, focus on not killing us,” Scully grasped the dash and inhaled a sharp breath as her lack of a seatbelt began to send signals to her already anxious brain as she looked back at Julian again. “Do you…right now?”

“Smell him? Yes, we’re close by and we have to be quiet,” Julian scooted forward, pointing at Fourteenth Street in the distance, certainty climbing. “We have to turn at the subway entrance and pull off at the building behind the old Chelsea Bank. We’ll go in through the back, sneak behind the situation…she won’t notice that way.”

“We’re going in through an apartment building?” Jacob turned onto Fourteenth and his eyes widened at the six-story building tucked in behind the abandoned bank, which was carefully concealed in the darkness behind a barrier. “How do you suppose we’re getting in there?”

“I have my ways of getting into nearly any building as long as it has an access point with a door or glass, at any height, but you can’t be asking questions or making a shitload of noise,” Julian rolled up the window and looked directly at Scully as he tucked away the locket, keeping it from moving around freely. “Every one of our senses is significantly more sensitive than a normal person—hearing is amplified. She won’t expect you to come in through a point of entry that only a certain number of people ever knew about.”

“I won’t put Mulder at risk,” Scully sucked back her tears as she thought of his face, his eyes, and the hurt he was experiencing deepening the clash of sadness and rage within her belly. “Just get me in there before I’m too late.”

It was precarious and they all knew it. The idle and full stop of the engine preceded the quiet exit in a neighborhood with plenty of onlookers. Julian glared at a homeless man on approach, baring his teeth and flashing his vermillion glare at him to send him running. It was enough to get the ball rolling as they slipped between two buildings, climbing the fire escape until they were on the third-floor smoking area that ran the length of the bricks. Julian moved like a ghost and Scully was doing her level best to match his pace without making a sound as they came to a window at the bank with a broken latch. Julian hushed her again, as a reminder, and pushed the window wide enough to accommodate each of them.

Before they could even gain full entry into the building, Julian’s spine went rigid and the hairs stood on end as he listened to the faintest of noise coming from the massive, empty lobby on the opposite end.

“We have to move,” Julian’s whisper was low but just enough for Scully’s ears while he offered an assist to get her down from the ledge as he watched her dangling her feet toward the landing.

Julian wasn’t a hero but he knew that they needed quiet and his motions were motivated by the need for quiet. They approached, with care, descending into the first floor where the old offices used to be and discovered the reason for Julian’s urgency. Mulder’s muffled, agony filled groans were becoming louder and less evenly spaced, Miranda’s voice booming over the top of them with threats. He remembered that tone in her voice and knew where it led; knew all too well what it meant. They were running dangerously low on time and Mulder was hanging by the final thread.

“Mulder…” Scully muted a gasp with her hand as she could see him slumped with slashes in his shirt and blood all over his face, arms, and neck.

Julian looked back at Scully as the tears finally began to fall. She’d done so well holding it in but the visual had finally broken a piece of her free, twisting at the part of her that had fallen so hopelessly in love with him. It tweaked the final, frayed string that Julian had left in his old heart and thrummed it even though it was rusted and out of tune. He remembered Colette and the way they both cried when they held Marie in their arms as she wailed just moments after her birth. The ache moved him; it was his soul breathing a semblance of life back into him.

It was his redemption, in some form, screaming at him as he pushed Scully and Jacob into a spot where they were fully concealed, safe from harm.

“Did anyone ever tell you not to break your toys, Miranda?” Julian’s voice ruined Miranda’s diatribe as he swung the door wide and put a dent in the wall, tearing her attention from the dagger perched between her fingers.

“Come to put up a fight because I took away your precious doll, Scarlett?” Miranda chuckled and let Mulder sink to the floor after slicing her way through the material of his shirt to play a demented game of tic-tac-toe on his flesh. “I’m not sorry about it. She was an irritant and the only thing to do with irritants is snuff them out.”

“You just can’t bear to think of anyone holding a moment of happiness with that shattered glass where your heart should be,” Julian walked a circle, keeping Declan locked in his peripheral as he stared her down, intensifying his intestinal fortitude. “Is that your fetish now? Attached, bonded, inextricably linked men that you know would only be yours if you revoked everything they had before your intrusion? You know he’ll never belong to you…just like I never did.”

“Ah, still mourning your wife and child, I see?” Miranda had a secretive smile and a satisfied look in her eyes as she put a little distance between herself and Mulder to approach Julian, her voice deepening. “I suppose I owe you the truth even though it is definitely a moot point now. That night that I rescued you from the blaze that took your beautiful home, it was no accident…I set that fire and held the door until I could hear your pretty wife’s screams from inside. I spared your life because I knew you belonged to me.”

“I didn’t belong to you but now that I know that you’re the Devil incarnate, I have no qualms about doing this,” Julian unsheathed the carefully concealed dagger from the inside of his jacket and skillfully flung it in the direction of Declan, expertly hitting him between the eyes with it.

The popping sound came first, proceeded by Declan’s muted gag as the blood trickled from his nose, mouth, and ears. The blade had sliced through his skull, meeting the fragile organ of the brain just enough to sever the brain stem from the respiratory centers. The body hadn’t caught up with the mind as he took two, feeble steps before dropping forward, to his knees, before the final blow of his face hitting the tile drove the dagger the rest of the way. Julian stood between Miranda and Mulder, the satisfied smile forming as her horrified expression morphed into something that he’d only seen when she was tearing into someone’s flesh. She was ready to tear him limb from limb as she growled, low and endlessly.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Miranda seethed and lunged in his direction, taking her focus off of Mulder entirely and letting her guard down enough to not notice Scully sneaking along the stacks of boxes and old desks that had seen better days. “I will end you! I should have done it years ago!”

“I was already dead the moment you murdered Colette, you cold, unfeeling, narcissistic demon,” Julian dodged her haphazard movements, tapping into every source of irritation within her as he managed to knock her knees out from under her, bringing her to the floor in a heap. “Don’t act like you ever gave a shit about your strung-out toy…you only needed him because I couldn’t stand you.”

Scully was very nearly there, her fingers within reach of Mulder’s arm as his head tilted in her direction. He was far from elated as he could feel the blood seeping through his clothes along his chest, down his abdomen, onto the floor. Declan had cut him deep the last time and his pulse had started to thread but there was something else mixed in it as the acrid, searing pain was flooding through his body like a virus. It was already chewing away at a conscious thought, at rationality, and his heart was thumping so hard that he thought might leap from his chest. There was something terribly wrong and it set off every alarm bell as he could feel Scully’s heart beating through the floor before she could even reach him.

His eyes dilated and his head shook as he felt her palm against his shoulder, burning against him like pure fire.

“You goddamn traitor,” Miranda’s eyes deepened to that blood-thirsty red as she could smell Scully in an instant, the hyper-focus centering as her field of vision darted back and forth between both scenes. “You were buying time so she could rescue him? You fail, fucking ingrate…you’re both far too late to do any good for him.”

Scully already had her gun pulled and had it trained on Miranda, her free fingers against Mulder’s neck as the inconsistency in his pulse was more than problematic. “What in the fuck does that mean?”

Miranda held up her hand, flashing the line across it where she’d cut open her palm, a deep grin curving across her lips as she staggered past Declan’s body, the hesitancy in her eyes. “Comingling of blood…almost an hour ago. Waited until he was nearly unconscious and let it fester in that open wound my dearly departed made for me. It won’t be long before he’ll be itching to free himself of those chains, drain you of every drop, and walk away with me.”

“Scully, please, I need you to kill me, it’s everywhere in me,” Mulder hissed as the first surge made every muscle in his body tighten, mimicking a seizure as his back arched away from the pillar, the momentary flash of red in his eyes before returning to that perfect hazel that had always been there. “Please, don’t let it happen…I can’t hurt you...I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t you fucking move, bitch, I swear to God I’ll pull the trigger. I won’t miss,” Scully was in tears already, her hand shaking as the gun stayed trained on Miranda, the turmoil evident as she found Mulder’s gaze. “I can’t do it. You know I can’t. I’d rather die than take your life.”

“That can be arranged,” Miranda quipped, the nervous smile perched as she took subtle delight in Scully’s pain.

“I’ll shoot you for talking, too,” Scully glared at Miranda as her heart began to thud in her chest, reminding her of the emotional pain she was feeling. “Keep your fucking mouth closed…or so help me, I’ll permanently close it.”

Mulder’s jaw clenched, his eyes doing more pleading than his words as his eyes locked onto hers. “I don’t want this, Scully.”

“Scully…” Julian saw fear in Miranda’s face for the first time as Mulder’s transition wasn’t far enough along, his attention to something he’d already told her about her bloodstream. “Undo what she has done with your own. Remember what I told you.”

“Oh, come on, Julian,” Miranda muttered, glaring in his direction. “You know that isn’t going to work.”

“You know, Miranda, you smell terrified,” Julian smiled and watched as Scully fished her utility knife from her pocket, nodding singularly at her, urging her on. “Don’t hesitate.”

“Mulder?” Scully never left anything to chance but she’d do it for him as she held his gaze, letting tears fall as she knew what she had to do. “Trust me.”

Scully lowered her weapon for just long enough to rip the gauze off her left hand, committing to the act of cutting herself with even a heartbeat’s chance. The scientist in her was running through every scenario of why this was wrong, but the woman in love with the man in front of her wanted nothing more than for this shot in the dark to work. Something deep in her gut screamed at her, willed her forward as the pinch preceded the flood of warmth and wetness along her palm. She moved it across Mulder’s cut, mingling it with his blood before taking the risk of offering it to his lips. Mulder understood and tilted forward, accepting what had been offered.

Mulder had put every ounce of faith and trust in Scully despite the risk, despite the set of unknowns.

“Please work, please, just work,” Scully was pleading as the pressure on her hand was met with the familiar sensation of his tongue against her skin while he refused to sink his teeth in. “Mulder…”

Mulder’s eyes rolled back, and his head bobbed as he rolled his head toward her, the weakness returning with a vengeance as he went limp against her shoulder. “…get me out of here, Scully.”

“Are you satisfied?” The look on Miranda’s face would have been enough but her voice was even more gratifying as she snarled at Julian, pulling her blade from the sleeve of her coat. “Everything was perfect.”

“I came to seek absolution and here I am, denying you twice. If that isn’t my solace or a form of redemption, I’ll see you in hell,” Julian began to back away from Miranda, his hand on his hip where another, smaller blade resided, his eyes turning his attention toward Scully as she applied pressure to Mulder’s wound. “I told you that you terrified her...don’t let her win.”

“No, wait, don’t!” Scully knew what it meant before she could even get all the words out as Julian eviscerated his neck, cutting himself open from ear to ear, spattering the floor in his blood. “Dammit, Julian!”

“Spineless,” Miranda had intended on going after him, but nothing was going right as she heard the distinct click of the safety on Scully’s gun. “Oh, fuck you.”

“No, fuck _you_ ,” Scully was on her feet, refusing to back down as she started to unload the clip in her direction, hitting Miranda multiple times almost as though she were trying to make it last. “I have never wanted anyone to suffer the way I want you to suffer. The amount of pain you’ve caused with your fucking superiority complex. You deserve nothing.”

“Oh, Agent Scully…I know how to adapt, always have. No one will be able to find me and I’ll live on, as I always do,” Miranda skittered to a corner and shoved a stack of boxes over, laying waste to the space between them as she managed to escape through a collapsed section of the wall.

Scully rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, exhaling slowly as the soft choking of Julian just feet away caught her off guard. “Oh, my God.”

“Don’t try,” Julian didn’t want to be saved as she knelt, holstered her gun, and held the outstretched hand he’d offered to her, his locket inside. “…For anyone to remember more than a devil.”

“I’ll keep it safe, I promise,” Scully nodded, smearing blood with her knees as she stayed with him until his eyes dilated and life had left.

“Scully…” Mulder’s voice was hoarse as she pushed the necklace into her pocket and moved in his direction.

“Jacob! We need help in here!” Scully called toward the sound of banging in the background as she pried the chains apart with a pipe, freeing him from the shackles, and guided him to a standing position. “I’ve got you.”

_It must be that old evil spirit  
So deep down in your ground_

_You may bury my body  
Down by the highway side_

-Robert Leroy Johnson

Monday, October 19, 1998, 7:30 PM

Level 107 SkyLounge – The Stratosphere

Las Vegas, NV

She’d been watching the slow rotation of the city, the shimmer of lights and traffic as it moved from place to place while nursing a dirty martini and an appetizer. The hum and clink of glassware, silverware, and plates just below her perch was just distracting enough to annoy her but not enough to lure her away from staring at the endless horizon. The candle in front of her flickered and swirled its romantic lighting but it inspired nothing but a deep sense of longing as she waved her palm across it a few times before settling around the stem of her glass. She didn’t feel regret. She didn’t feel a semblance of sadness.

Hell, she didn’t really feel anything at all but the bitter reminder of healing wounds beneath the tight-fitting dress and ample cleavage.

“Ma’am, could I get you anything else? Another drink? The dinner menu from the restaurant?” The bartender’s voice pulled her from the lull of the pane of glass, from staring at the hazy reflection she barely recognized.

“Oh, please, don’t call me Ma’am, it’s Miranda,” Miranda’s brilliant eyes shimmered as she turned on the charm and looked him over, absorbing his chiseled features, his dark eyes, and Chesnutt air. “The menu would be fantastic…and maybe you’d like to take your break to keep me company?”

“I…uh…” He blushed, genuinely flattered by the comment to the point that he stammered while putting his hands in his pockets, awkwardly chewing his lip. “My shift just started…but, if you’re going to be here awhile?”

Miranda swirled the olive around in her drink and seductively slipped it between her teeth, letting her lips linger around it just enough to make him audibly gulp beside the table, reading his nametag. “I’ll be here as long as you’d like… _Robbie_.”

Robbie smiled, nodding as he backed away from the table. “I’ll just go get that menu, then.”

Miranda licked her lips and nodded as the familiar odor of attraction permeated from him like a drug that she’d missed, awakening the ache. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

_If there’s even a slight chance_

_Of getting something that will_

_Make you happy, risk it._

_Life’s too short, and happiness is too rare._

-A.R. Lucas

Friday, October 23, 1998, 6:30 PM

The Bullpen – FBI Building

Washington, DC

The room had dwindled to just the two of them. Mulder’s task completion had reduced from returning to work before his ribs and chest had head completely but he, simply, wanted to be near Scully. Breathing still ached but he hadn’t shattered anything; just four fractures and bruising aside from the gash that nearly killed him. Every evening after she left the office wasn’t enough for him. He’d become reliant on the comfort of her within reaching distance and enjoyed being able to give her a wanton look from across their desks, even though she’d warned him about it at least a dozen times. Mulder didn’t care; he liked the way Scully looked when she blushed.

There was normalcy rooted in their behavior as it began to tilt toward domesticity.

“Mulder, stop staring,” Scully had her eyes on the screen, busily typing away at a database while he was flicking his sunflower seeds into the wastebasket. “Just because I don’t have my head turned, doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”

“Maybe I want to sit over here and undress you with my eyes before I can unfurl the real thing later,” Mulder made her choke on the remnants of an iced tea as she started to swallow, the rosy hue of her cheeks intensifying as she set it down and elevated her brows at him. “What are you working on anyway? You had all of your grunt work done an hour ago.”

“The man that led me to you that died to help me save your life,” Scully glanced at the locket coiled around itself on the top of her desk as she put her emotions in check to tell him, her voice soft and gentle. “I got curious about whether or not his daughter survived the fire. I looked up the family name and found a marriage announcement for one Marie Dumaine to Nicholas Ferrer that would line up with her, putting her in her 70s.”

“I know you want to be able to get that locket to someone linked to Julian but don’t try to reach for something that might not be there, Scully,” Mulder slid back in his chair and pushed the remaining paperwork into the inbox, diverting all of his attention in her direction. “There could be hundreds of people with that name.”

“I thought about that part so I looked into birth records, the fire, and the family name first,” Scully turned her screen toward Mulder, showing a similar image to the one inside the locket, a weak smile on her lips. “I can’t pretend that I understand what happened out there or insert science into how the solution saved you, but it did…”

They hadn’t crossed the bridge of the anomaly that reversed what had seemed like inevitability; they’d been too afraid to say it out loud. Scully’s blood; the key to undoing the virus working through him. Mulder had spent time, actively, touching a hand to the back of her neck, secretly wondering if it had something to do with it. Scully, however, kept it close to the vest, relieved he was alive and wasn’t about to suck her blood. They’d chosen, actively, to choose something in the middle and focus on the fallen angel with a pair of fangs.

“What are you going to do?” Mulder identified with the search and saw the look on her face as not so unlike one he’d worn so many times when discussing Samantha.

“Well, I was hoping you’d be okay with taking a little detour tonight before we go have dinner with the guys?” Scully shrugged, the question coming out far more tentative than intended as she wrote down an address and reached for the locket. “Marie lives here, in DC, with her daughter and granddaughter…”

“A lot of girls in that family,” Mulder hid a smirk as he winced while reaching for his coat, unable to fully stifle the grunt as he barely got a sleeve pulled on. “I mean, I was hoping you’d want me to go with you.”

“I wouldn’t want to go alone, Mulder,” Scully was on her feet, helping him with the coat, her fingers lingering on the lapel as she straightened the front out and searched his eyes while moving her hands toward his waist. “I’d like to take the locket to her…even if it means nothing to her at this point. It meant something to him.”

“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll be skipping dinner,” Mulder smirked and caressed her cheek as she stood before him, eyes shimmering up at him. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

_I don’t know what I would’ve done._

Scully was beyond enamored with Mulder and the feeling was more than mutual. She still found herself checking his pulse, his eyes, and his wounds for anything out of the ordinary, almost irritating him. They’d come too close to an end. Scully had come too close to watching him die once so she could die twice by having to end eternity. She couldn’t explain it and he wasn’t going to make her relinquish the lack of belief. It still didn’t feel real.

Scully nodded, fiddling with the end of his tie as she stayed close to him, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne and the coffee on his breath. “I nearly lost you and a tortured soul gave me enough hope, strength, and direction to bring you back safely. Some promises, however unspoken, are just meant to be kept.”

Mulder leaned in and kissed her forehead, letting his lips stay there for longer than he’d planned as he felt her exhale against his shirt, the contentment evident. “Let’s make sure we keep it, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by  
> Atticus (x2)  
> Daniel Hunt  
> Robert Leroy Johnson  
> A.R. Lucas
> 
> Serah, I know you had to wait so long to get this but I hope the wait was worth it. I wanted to try something different and explore the lore, the romance, and play with expectations of a little jealousy/angst of your prompt itself. I really hope I did it justice.
> 
> I apologize if this is muddled and a mess...Devotion takes time with these things and marinating on it would've taken a lot longer. However, this spoke to me, and I hope it speaks to you.
> 
> Val, thank you again...I appreciate you endlessly.

**Author's Note:**

> I truly hope this is worth the read. It’s out of my wheelhouse and I’m terrified of the prospect. I poured everything into it...and, if it is enough, the juice is worth the squeeze.
> 
> I really hope you love it.
> 
> To Val, thank you for reading through this to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind.
> 
> Quotes by  
> Bram Stoker, Dracula  
> Bela Lugosi  
> Ann Brashares
> 
> There will be easter eggs. I hope you catch each one.


End file.
